


Sugar, We're Going Down

by tobylove (orphan_account)



Series: I Love You, Freckles [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Author Commentary, Depression, F/M, Financial Issues, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I talk too much, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Post-Divorce, Roommates, Sugar Daddy, Trans Character, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tobylove
Summary: Richie finds out a really neat (and very cute) way of paying the bills."It works out great! He takes care of me, I take care of him."





	1. Don't Panic! At the Disco

**Author's Note:**

> and i'm starting another fic why.....? well here it is i'm rolling with it! i hope y'all enjoy this little silly idea!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why panic when you can party?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just *squints* just like this concept okay,,,,, sobs// seriously tho i have w a y too much free time yo

So Stan and I had this cutesy little idea of what our lives were gonna be after high school. We moved in together, and we thought that we were going to get good paying jobs while in college and get all A's and pay the rent on time and not have to struggle another day in our lives.

Well, we were _way_ off the fucking mark.

When we were late on our rent again (Starbuck's really had a special way of playing magician with my money) and our water got shut off for the third time (American Eagle had a really special way of playing magician with _Stan's_ hours)... I _really_ started to panic. I was thinking of every single immoral or illegal way we could make some money. Hell, I even thought about getting into dealing again--but if I got arrested again, Stan would be on his own. I couldn't do that.

"I should become an escort," Stan had joked, but I could tell he wasn't entirely pulling at my leg there. Nothing wrong with sex work at all. But I wouldn't make him do that.

I nulled it over in my head again and again. Maybe Stan and I had to throw in the towel. Maybe we would have to move back home. Maybe I would have to get on my knees and cry and beg my parents to forgive me for being a disappointment. But my pride was too high; I was barely 20 and I didn't want to seem like such a... a fucking _kid._ But even beyond that reason, my parents had disowned me a long time ago, and Stan's were on the verge of disowning him. We both couldn't do that.

So what's a dude to do? I called Bev. Partly because Mike had his own shit going on (you think _we_ had it rough? Try being a librarian's assistant), and partly because I just really wanted to talk to her. I loved her; she was my homegirl. And also because, ever since we'd known her... her life-long dream was to be a fashion designer.

And--get this--she just got with a company. After she set her foot in the ground with them, she was leaving for her own.

"Just... rub some of your good luck on me," I joked, and finally cracked a smile for the first time that day.

She laughed. "Mike called me the other day and said that, too! But I'll tell you what, Tozier. My... _friend,_ he's really successful. Ben Hanscom--the architect?"

"Holy shit! You _know_ him?"

I could hear the smirk in her voice at this point. "Yeah! He's my good luck charm. Without Benny, I wouldn't have been able to get half of the connections that I needed for this. He takes me to all these fancy parties and introduces me to all these fancy people. There's one tonight! You should come, and Stan too, if he wants--Ben is always telling me to invite friends."

At first, I was like 'yeah, yeah, what are the odds'... but then she said something that definitely put the icing on the cake.

"I'm sure there are tons of people there that can get you _radio connections._ "

 _"Give me the address, sista!"_ I yelled, and Bev laughed lightly, easily--like she knew how this was gonna turn out before we even went.

* * *

Bev told me to dress nice-- _really nice_ \--for this party, and I assumed that if any of those people she was talking about were going to be there, that it was pretty swanky. I dressed as nicely as I could, which was still pretty casual: just some slacks and a pin-stripped button-down shirt. I undid the first three buttons. Just for aesthetic.

"So you're going _out?_ " Stan squinted his eyes at me as I was headed out the door. "Of all times? _Really?_ "

"Don't worry Stan the Man, I'm going to come back richer than my name," I said, heading over to him and cupping his face in my hands. I gave him a great big kiss on one of his cheeks, Stan blushed as red as his shirt, and I laughed as he grumbled me a goodbye.

 

"You clean up nice," I smirked, looking at Bev in her little black dress, her curled hair, and her red lipstick. But you can put makeup on a tomboy, but she's still a tomboy. Because Bev punched me in the arm, and that shit actually _really hurt._

"You look alright, I guess," she teased back.

Then Ben Hanscom came over, and that actually made me shut up for a while. He was this chiseled dude, maybe late thirties, so handsome it was intimidating, tanned arms. Casual-looking formal clothes (button-down and slacks like I did), but they did _not_ look cheap. I had never met a celebrity before or anything, and I hated being this way, but I was actually beside myself. At first I actually thought that Bev was bullshitting me and this was all one big joke. 

"Hey, Bevvie!" He smiled, and I could sense just the slightest accent on him, like he was from... ah, like the Northwest or something. He pulled her into a hug, and she stood on her heels and gave him a bright red kiss on the cheek. "You look so beautiful, like always. I see you finally brought some company!"

"Yep! This is Richard. We all just call him Richie. Me, him, and our friends Stan and Mike go _way_ back."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you said you didn't have many lady friends," Ben mused. "You're a real knockout, Richard, I tell you that." He looked me up and down--not like he was trying to intimidate me, kinda like he was _comparing_ us. He seemed like he was nervous, anxious... _jealous?_

I blushed, feeling like a maiden--but hey, I was flattered as hell. "Thanks, man."

"Well, I'll get us a table and while I do that, I'll let you guys get to enjoying the party. Let me know if y'all need anything; I'm just an earshot away. And oh, uh..." he blushed himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was real nice meeting you... Richie."

"You too, man! Ya buildings look real sharp!"

Ben chuckled at my informal tone, smiled at the both of us and briskly walked further off into the party. Bev chuckled as soon as he was a ways away.

"Huh. That's weird. Usually, he doesn't act like this. But he doesn't have the best self esteem, especially about other guys, so... maybe that's why? He's scared I'm going to like, leave him for some younger guy."

"No offense girly-o, but ya not my type," I teased. "And him jealous of _me?_ Crazy. Very likely, but crazy. And c'mon, now! He doesn't look that old--"

But then I cut myself off. Even Bev cut herself off laughing at my stupid jokes to try to figure out what made me so quiet. _He_ had made me so quiet. One of the guys that Ben had went over to a table to talk to.

There were two of them; one with blazing red hair in a ponytail and a wide smile (he looked like an author or a CEO, really), and then... and then it was _him_. He was shorter, tinier, but he looked so compact and pristine. He had high apple cheekbones and eyes that took up half of his face. They were amplified even more with glasses; they looked like big, dark, pretty dinner-plates. His hair matched the darkness of his eyes. His smile was confident, like the redhead's, comfortable, but more... guarded. From what I could see, I could see freckles splattered on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

I don't like waxing poetic often, if even at all. But he must've noticed me staring at him because he glanced over and caught my gaze. We locked eyes, and he wouldn't back down. I didn't want him to. It was like we were... the only two people in the room.

"What's your problem, Tozier?" Bev snickered. "Like something you see?"

I looked at her in a daze. "Bev... he's _beautiful._ Who is he?"

Bev's smirk widened. She was amused. "Who, Bill or Eddie?"

"Which is which?"

"William is the ginger, but he just goes by Bill. He's a famous author; I think you've read one of his books once? _The Black Rapids_ \--" Hm, so I was right. Look at that! And l love someone who can write kickass horror. "--and Eddie is the brunet. He has like thirteen different limo chauffeuring locations in here and different major cities, Ben told me. They're both super cool dudes. And Bill? Bill is _super cute._ Don't tell Ben I said that, though!"

"You think I can pull him off?" I asked, breaking into a huge grin. Bev gave me a matching smirk, and narrowed her eyebrows at me.

"No, to be honest," she snickered again. "But it wouldn't hurt to go over there and try."

So that's exactly what I did. Bev and I went over there to the table where The Three Moneybags were, and the beautiful one didn't break eye contact with me as we walked over. I made eye contact with him again, giving him my best smile, and extended my hand out to him.

"So, can I dance with the cutest man in the room?" I asked smoothly. His eyes went wider, which I didn't think was possible; his mouth was a thin, hard line... but he was blushing as red as Stan was earlier.

"Me?" he squeaked, and even his voice was fucking adorable. He stammered, looking like he was short of breath. Then he looked at Ben and Bill The Author.

"I think you should," Bill The Author said, giving his warm smile again. "C'mon, Eddie. It'll be fun!"

"A-alright, alright. Yes, okay... I'll do it." He made eye contact with me, his face looked gorgeous with a smile. "Yeah. It'll be fun."

 

I had my arms wrapped around his waist, and his wrapped around my shoulders--he had to stand on his tiptoes to do it. But he looked so cute and sensual that way; looking up at me with his lazy blush and his pretty lidded eyes.

"So _what's_ your name, pretty boy?" he asked, and I smirked. "What do you do?"

"I'm Richie, _beautiful,"_ I answered. "College kid. I work at a Starbuck's. I sing sometimes. But like, I'm a _kickass_ comedian. I wanna be on radio someday."

"I think I could help with that," he said. "I've already achieved my dreams. Why not help somebody else with theirs'?"

"You're sweet," I said to this, and my smirk softened into a grin. He gave me a pretty little smile, showing his straight, white teeth.

"You're sweeter, darling. I'm Edward, by the way. Please, just call me Eddie, though. And I'm so delighted to be able to spend time with you tonight, Richie. How do I _repay_ you for that time?"

I blinked. "Huh? What do you mean?"

He gave me another smile, this one bordering on the verge of a playful smirk. "Do you want it in cash, or in your bank account? How much?"

I blinked _again._ This guy was offering me _money?_ Just for dancing with him for an hour? I legit thought he was joking, because he was still smiling, so I chuckled and said: "I dunno. $500?"

But Eddie actually furrowed his eyebrows at me with a frown. "Don't you think that's a little jippy? Here--I'll do $1000. Give me just a second..."

He pulled out his wallet from the inside of his suit, sliding out more greenbacks that I had ever seen someone carry on them in my fucking _life._ He counted out 10 $100 bills quickly, then did it again to double-check. Then he pulled out an envelope and a pen, wrote on the front of said envelope, put the money in... and then handed the entire thing to me. 

I blushed, feeling unnaturally anxious and unworthy. "Wait... uh, Mr. Eddie, I can't take this. You don't--"

"But I _want_ to," he said, cutting me off. "Please, Richie... it would make me feel better. And if you ever wanted to spend more time with me, then there's more where that came from. Really... I could take care of you, if you wanted me to."

"This isn't putting you out?" I asked, quickly realizing how stupid that sounded. _No, jackass. The dude is fucking rich._

He gave me a husky giggle. "No, silly. It's just a little gift, from me to you."

"I mean... I'm _not_ complainin', _I'm really not._ Or at least not trying to. But... but why? And why me?"

"You're just so handsome," he said with another smile, and I dunno... I could sense something sad in it. "And I'm lonely. All I want is to have a pretty boy to keep me company and to make me feel a little younger again." Then the sadness dissipated. "Like a college kid. Does that sound fun to you?"

"Damn... a guy as fine as you doesn't have a boyfriend?" I said, lamely again. And I kinda wish I didn't, because he gave me that sad-laced smile again... and I was quickly learning that I really didn't like it.

"Yeah, unfortunately not," he said.

"I mean... I mean, it does sound fun to me," I replied. I mean, what was the harm or even the cons of this? This beautiful rich dude was going to pay me to hang around and flirt with him? Emphasis on _beautiful?_ Something drew him to me, he was just so magnetic... beyond the money, or his fancy suit or the pink envelope that he magically had on him. He was just... I dunno. _Human._

He gave me another sweet smile, and now I was zoning in on _everything._ He _did_ have freckles, a lot of them. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. He had on this ruby pinky ring that looked like real gold, and I'm sure it was. I just realized the accents on his suit were pink. He put his hands on his cheeks, and even though he was over ten years older than me, that made him look like we were the same age.

"Oh, Richie. You just made me the happiest man in the world. May I have a hug?"

"Ah, c'mere baby," I teased, pulling him back into me, and he laughed, obviously liking the attention. _Goddamn_ could I get used to this. He crouched me down a little, stepped on his tiptoes again, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Anything you want, you can have it," Mr. Eddie whispered in my ear, and when he pulled back, I could see that he was smiling again. I couldn't help but to grin back.

 

Whenever I had gotten home, Stan was already asleep. I texted Bev and thanked her for taking me to that amazing, bitching ass party. And then, I looked at the envelope, making sure that it wasn't a dream. I took the money out, counting it over and over, holding it in my hands, just to confirm that it was fucking real. Mr. Eddie had wrote his name and number on the front of the envelope in perfect cursive handwriting, along with _I hope we can hang out again sometime._

Hell yeah, Cute Rich Man. Hell yeah.

Stan and I had been going through so much shit, that honestly this was a big break. If I were a religious guy, I would've already gotten on my knees singing fucking hallelujah. Bev knew what the hell she was talking about; I would give her that. I had to thank her again.

But the things that made me happy were the simplest. Three little things. Stan and I didn't have to struggle to find any money. We could pay our rent and our water bill (and all our other bills for this entire fucking month, for that matter) with Mr. Eddie's little "gift". He was so nice, and I wasn't gonna lie... I really liked him. He was sweet and innocent with a little naughty flair, and I found myself wondering if he was a top or a bottom. I also imagined how we would look hanging out together again, where we would go, holding his hand.

And the last thing. He said: _anything you want, you can have it._ Anything I want? My bills to be paid whenever? Me and Stan to not have to worry about that anymore? A new car? To be a disc jockey? To be on radio? To be famous?

I felt dizzy as fuck. Anything I wanted, I could have it. That's what Mr. Eddie said. That envelope proved it. He could do it. He liked me, of all people, for some reason. He _would_ do it.

I started to laugh.

Stan was gonna fucking _flip._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: how did you get that money Rich did you fucking KILL somebody


	2. Happy Pills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much do you think you'd want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christmas is almost here sleigh bills ring and whateva,, to all my jewish friends, i hope u guys had a great hanukkah this year! <3

My mother always had this really cutesy idea of what my life would be when I became an adult. I would stay in her house forever, if she could control it. Go to school close to home, fall in love and get married (even though that drove her up the wall), have children, be successful. Some of those things she was way off the mark; some of them she was right on the money. For a little while.

She had wanted me to be successful and happy. I was _very_ successful, but I _wasn't_ happy. I had just gotten divorced and I didn't have any kids. And now I had this great big house, for little ole me, and I wasn't swimming in discontent... I was _drowning_ in it.

It took me a long time to realize that I had done a lot of this for my mother, so she would be proud of me. I guess that didn't matter nowadays, because years ago, my mother had passed away. I loved her, I missed her, but I felt a little freer now. Like I didn't have to be scared of her. But she still always hung around, like Norman Bates's mother, in _Psycho._ I could still hear her voice in the back of my mind, yelling at me, pleading with me, being worried for me.

Insulting me.

Sometimes I would be angry and other times I would just be sad. Or drained. _Was none of this fucking enough for you?_ I would think sometimes, when I was angry. But things would always be a little more sinister on the off-days. I would pick up one of the bottles of my beloved pills; stare at it for a long time. _You wanna_ really _be sick, Eugene?_ I would think wildly. _Go ahead, then. Take them all. Really be sick. Really need them. Go ahead and fucking take them all!_

God. Wouldn't that be easier?

I wasn't like Ben, and I wasn't like Bill. I wasn't strong or confident or likeable. Or even handsome. And I thought I was aging badly. I could already see grey sprouting from the front of my hairline and the sides of my temples. I flipped my shit about everything; many different people had told me that I care about everything _a little too much._ I was paranoid, I was controlling, I was unlovable. I didn't see how I could get the attention of any young, handsome man. 

Men like Richie.

He was the only thing I could think about, after I met him. Tall and dark and handsome. And charismatic. Ben and Bill must've thought so, too, because both of them had each pulled me to the side and both of them had brought him up to me in the morning.

Bill had cornered me, a wide grin on his face, and he knew even if he didn't do this, then I was going to budge. "Eddie! I'm glad you had fun at the gala last night. Like, _a lot_ of fun. Did you give your number to that kid?"

"Huh?" I asked, blinking. "What kid?"

"That kid you were glued to all last night. That came with Beverly; her friend. What was his name? Richard?"

"Yeah, that's it," I mumbled, suddenly feeling super self-conscious. I crossed my arms. "And what makes you think I gave my number to him?"

Bill grinned. "Don't play dumb, Bunny. We've been friends for 27 years and you think I'm gonna buy that? My point is, I know when you like somebody. And you don't just like this kid. You're _enamored_ with him."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I turned my head to the side. "Okay. I gave him my number, whatever. I just want to hang around him so I'm not so lonely. And if he needs any help money wise--"

_"So you're a sugar daddy now?"_

I blushed even harder. _"What? No!_ I just--I just--if he ever needs my help, then why not--"

"So how much did you give him last night?"

"Only a thousand. But that's not _bad!_ That doesn't mean that I--"

Bill leaned up against the wall with an amused smile, and he let out an airy chuckle. "Eddie. No fair! _I_ want a cute little boy that I can spoil! So every time we go to a gala, you've got eye candy now. No freaking _fair."_

"I'm not gonna spoil him, Bill," I sighed.

"No, of course not. You're gonna spoil him _rotten."_

I finally let myself chuckle, if just a bit. "I'm going to try not to do that too much. But I mean, you saw him. He's just so _cute_. Why wouldn't I want to buy him everything."

Bill grinned at me. "I'm not gonna stop you, Bun. But if he has a _cute little friend_ that I can buy everything for, just let me know. Ask Rich the next time you see him."

"Okay, Big Bill," I agreed... but the prospect of seeing Richie again made me all tingly and nervous.

* * *

I played around with the idea of calling him over and over. I didn't know if I should reach out to him so soon. I didn't know if I should even go through with this. But I wanted to, and that was well enough. So what was so hard about calling him? I mean... what if this didn't make me happy? What if he grew tired of me? What if he didn't even _like_ me? I would rather him think I was just some rich old man to take money and gifts from, keep up appearances... than for him to tell me that he hated me to my face. I would rather lie to me, if even for just a little while.

But my phone rang, as if on cue. I jumped and almost hit my arm on my table (which would have bruised). It was him. I let it ring a couple of times, and then answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mr. Eddie Spaghetti!" he responded, his voice loud, energetic, and cheery on the other line. I found myself giggling despite myself.

"Mr. Who and What?"

He laughed. "You! What, ya don't like it?" His voice still had the teasing inflection that it had the previous night, which only just made me warm and tingly again. I bit my lip, letting my head lean back against my wall. _Treat this like a business conversation,_ I thought. _Be professional about it._

"No. I mean... cute, but no cigar. But I'm actually really happy you called. I was wondering if you were busy this afternoon?"

Richie pretended to ponder this. " _Hmmm,_ let me check..." I heard the clicking sounds he made with his mouth as if he were flipping through (what I can only imagine was) an imaginary planner. "Nnnnope! I can't say I am! Why, ya miss me?"

I let out a breath. "Uh, y-yeah. I was going to go to the outlets and look for a new watch, and I really didn't want to go alone. I'll treat you out to dinner after. How does that sound?"

"Sure," he tried to say nonchalantly, but I could hear what I hoped was excitement in his voice. "Just tell me which outlets and I'll meet you there--"

"Richie," I started. "Why would I invite you somewhere and not even pick you up? Text me your address. I'll be there in an hour."

"Okay," he snickered, and we hung up... and I put my hands up to my super hot cheeks. Maybe I had a fever.

 

And then I found myself at the top of the stairs of an apartment about an hour later. I wrung my hands together before knocking on the door. But it wasn't Richie who answered. It was another boy--tall like Richie, dark curly hair, dark eyes, and I could see the light blue glittering of braces when he opened his mouth. He had on a t-shirt and boxer briefs. I felt hot, unnecessary jealousy run through me.

"Hello," I smiled, politely enough, even though my hands were shaking. "I _really_ didn't mean to interrupt anything. Is Richard here?"

The boy let out what sounded like a scoff and a chuckle. "No, sir. This is _definitely_ not what it looks like. I live here; he's my best friend-mate. That's a Best Friend Roommate. But anyway uh... if you don't mind me asking. Who are you?"

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. _How stupid of me._ "Well... my name is Edward. We met last night, and we were just going to go out for dinner. I..."

I trailed off, noticing the glances that the younger man gave me. They didn't seem angry or judgemental, they seemed... confused, shocked maybe. I suddenly felt way too overdressed in my (gaudy) powder-pink fur coat and my matching hat. Maybe I looked like some vintage pimp.

"Well... uh... I'll tell him that you're here. Just one second, sir." As he turned back into the apartment, I zoned in on the fact that he called me 'sir'. Twice. _Sir. Mr. Eddie. Geez, did I really look that old?_

And then the tall boy came back to the door, with Richie in tow. The latter's face lit up when he saw me and he pulled me into a hug.

"Mr. Eddie! It's-a so nice to-a see you again!" he exclaimed, putting on an Italian accent; I rolled my eyes playfully and his friend sighed. "Pink must be your color, because _mwah!_ You always look so beautiful in it."

My entire face flushed red. "Thank you."

"Of course! Mr. Eddie, this is Stan. Stan, this is Mr. Eddie. We should get going though! That watch isn't just gonna pick out itself, ya know." He winked at me, and Stan, his friend, looked a bit exasperated and confused. Richie ruffled his hair playfully, but grabbed my arm and led us down the stairs before we could divulge into anymore questions.

"Nah, for real though. You look pretty in pink," Richie said as soon as we got into the car.

"I'm glad you like it," I said lamely. "I thought it was too much."

He grinned, leaning into my neck and planting a kiss there. And he rested his hand on one of my thighs as I drove, which sent a wave of excitement through me. Such a simple gesture, but it still got me. I _really_ did not need to mess up my leather seats. I had to take my coat off at a stoplight.

 

"So, don't be mad at me... but we're actually not here for me," I said, my eyes bright with giddiness when he looked shocked and amused. "I really just wanted an excuse to take you shopping. And to talk to you about some important things. Like stuff with the arrangement."

"The arrange--?" Richie started, but then his eyes widened. "Oh, I get it! Okay. I'm still just a tad confused, but I'mma roll with it."

"Don't worry. I'll explain it all... for right now, we've got some shopping to do. Show me what you like?"

I found out quickly that Richie really liked shoes, because he gravitated towards those. He picked out a pair of Nike's that he liked, and was eyeing another pair before I stopped them. "You can get _both_ pairs if you want, Rich," I laughed. He did too, but he seemed a little anxious."Aw, man. I'd feel bad if I got both," he tried to counter... but he ended up grabbing the other pair as well. I'm sure he would get used to the feeling over time.

It was my idea to go get clothes. I wanted to pick out some nice dress shirts for him, and a nice suit if we could find one. But we weren't doing much shopping. Richie had taken my coat and hat and had put them on, pretending like he was Al Capone or somebody. "Like a gay Al Capone," he told me. "Like Al Cajones." I hit him in the arm, but he swing back around and grabbed me from behind. I was giggling like a schoolgirl until a sales associate came up to us.

She had asked us did we need any help, and I had told her that we were looking for a suit. "Oh," she said, looking from me to Richie to me again. "For your... son?"

"Yeah, something like that," Richie responded before I could even answer. "Isn't that right, Daddy-O?" My entire face flushed again, and I wanted to hit him in the arm again when he snickered.

 

We ended up actually finding a suit for him--a nice, tasteful navy-blue one that he really liked. We even got him the shirts and some pants, along with his shoes. After we had made it to the restaurant and we had sat down is when I decided to bring back up the arrangements.

"I wanted to talk to you about a monthly allowance," I said, and I blushed when he held my hands from across the table. "How much do you think you'd want?"

"Uh..." he cut his eyes to the side, his face concentrating--I could tell he was trying to think of a number he thought wasn't too high. A number he thought I wouldn't judge him for.

"Oh, uh, yikes! I dunno! Uh... $2000?" he said, sounding a bit apprehensive. "Is that too much?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Are you sure that's _enough?"_

"I didn't think I should go higher than that," he explained, but I gripped his hands tighter, ever so slightly.

"Richie, don't worry about all of that. Don't worry if you think the prices are too high or too low. Or worry about trying to upset me. I won't be... just whatever you need, I got it. Okay?"

"Okay..." he echoed, still sounding a bit uneasy.

I rubbed my thumbs over his and gave him a smile. "How about this: we can start out with $5000, and if that's not enough, we can bump up the price, okay? How's that sound?"

"What if it's too much?" He asked.

My smile grew wider. "Then just keep the rest."

"Well... okay," he said again, finally giving me a smile. He rubbed his thumbs along mine, as I was just doing to his.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Yeah! I dunno. I just... I just feel really bad, Mr. Eddie. Like, it just feels like you're doing all this for me and I'm doing nothing for you. Shit, you just gave me a grand last night, then you turned around and bought me $700 worth of stuff, _then_ you wanna turn around and give me _5 grand?  A month?_ Like, what's in it for you?"

"All I really want is your company," I smiled. "I want to help you. Help you be successful financially, as well as in your career. That'll make me happy. _That's_ what's in it for me."

"But it's all centered around me," he said, and he seemed uncomfortable. Daggers shot through my chest, and I frowned again. "I just don't think that's fair."

"You seem like the type of guy that _loves_ attention," I teased, but this time, he wouldn't bite. He shuffled a bit in his chair.

"I mean, yeah, don't get me wrong... but if you're taking care of me, I wanna take care of you, too."

"There are a ton of ways you can take care of me," I said without thinking... and this time, he _did_ bite. A smirk spread across his entire face.

He leaned closer into the table and brought both of my hands up to his face to kiss them both. "Well, Mr. Eddie, you're _really_ gonna have to show me how you like to be taken care of. You like to pamper dudes. I get it! Do _you_ like to be pampered, too?"

I chuckled, turning my face to the side a little in a failed attempt to hide my blush. "I mean--"

"That's what we should do for the next date! We should just go back to your place..." Richie paused, his eyes glazed over, "...and _I_ can take care of _you._ "

I smiled, trying not to bite my lip and let on how much I _really_ wanted what he was implying, but I failed at that, too. Richie was a really smart boy; I guess he _did_ have a point, after all. He seemed like he would do _great_ in radio broadcasting. He was even more charming and persuasive than he let on.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill: so any cute friends?  
> Eddie: I mean here's a picture of his roommate  
> Bill: hahaHAHA CHECKMATE!!


	3. It Will Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Richie's amusement, weather and otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *has a knife pressed to my throat* this is just,,,, foreplay,,, and yet the chapter is still so long,,,

So Mr. Eddie and I planned our (technically) second date for the weekend in since we both had a bajillion fucking things to do during the week. I had to work until Thursday, and Stan's parents were in town (How I love Mumsy. 'When are you going to marry my son?' she asks me). Mr. Eddie actually had to go out of town--he told me what for; it's like a regional meeting or something, I dunno. But it sounded super important. But he flew back on Thursday night. Until then, he gave me kisses all over my face to think of him by. _I_ gave _him_ hickeys. What can I say--I'm a visual guy.

Sunday is when Mom and Pop Uris came to visit us, and Monday I was in the house all day by myself after work (in since I worked that morning and Stan worked that evening). But Tuesday, Mike came over to keep Stan and I company after we both got off work, and we were all gonna play video games.

"Those shoes look real clean, dude," Mike said, amused. He pointed to one of the (super saucy, if I may say so myself) pairs of Nike's that Mr. Eddie bought me the last week. "How'd ya get them? Did you not pay your half of the rent or something?"

I beamed and grinned from ear to ear, and Stan squinted at me. "They're from my Fairy Godfather," I snickered. "Well, like. Fairy God-uncle or some shit. He ain't old enough to be any type of father of mine." But a _Daddy_. Wink wink.

"Well, dang," Mike said with a grin, as he marveled the sweet kicks on my feet. "I need to get me one of those. Don't care if it's a God-uncle or a Godmother or any of that."

 _"Fairy Godfather,"_ Stan echoed, and scoffed. "So either he's doing favors for the mafia or he has a sugar daddy now. Because some middle-aged man came knocking on my door like he owned the place. And I guess he does. He fucking _dressed_ like it."

"Pink on pink on pink," I gushed.

"Yes. Like Pink Panther. He looked like a pimp, or something."

"Well," Mike said, shifting a bit in his seat. He didn't look too uncomfortable; he looked like he was going to burst at the seams with amusement. "Does your sugar daddy have any other rich friends that buy Nike's for folks? I'm asking for a friend."

"What friend?" Stan asked. "Bev? Oh, wait. That's right."

Mike grinned and threw his arm around Stan's shoulder, ignoring his snarkiness and his saltiness. Stan didn't push him off; he just sighed like he did when any of us tried to give him affection.

"I don't think he's my sugar daddy," I said. "He's just my _super nice friend_ that I go on dates with and make out with sometimes. It just so happens that he's super rich." Then I threw my head back and laughed--because frankly, I'm hilarious.

"So I'm assuming he hangs out with other rich folks," Mike smirked, pressing on. I smirked back.

"Sure, had tons of rich friends at that little party I went to. You know Ben Hanscom The Architect? He was there. And him and Mr. Eddie and Bill--"

 _"Ben Hanscom!"_ Stan exclaimed. "You're joking."

I cackled. "Nnnnope! Him and Bill The Author where there. I think they're Mr. Eddie's friends. I think Bill The Author is free, Lebron."

Mike paused. "Wait. Like Bill Denbrough?"

"I-unno the dude's last name! If Bill Denbrough's an author, it may be him. He got red hair? Write a book called _The Black Rapids--?"_

 _"Holy shit!"_ Mike said, and his eyes lit up instantly. I forgot that he was a fucking nerd. He put his hands up as if he were cutting me a deal. "Okay, money aside. Whenever you hang out with your _friend_ again... if he is friends with Bill Denbrough, can you get his autograph for me?"

I got in between Mike and Stan and threw my arms around both of their shoulders. "Can do, Lebron. Can do."

"Rich. _I'd actually go into the NBA_ if you got his autograph. Don't play with me." I snickered until I snorted, Mike grinned and shrugged, and even Stan shook his head and laughed.

* * *

Wednesday and Thursday passed without incident. Mr. Eddie had texted me Thursday night and told me that he was back in town; I called him and we talked for a little while until he went to bed. But he had asked me during did I want to hang out starting Friday morning instead of Saturday (which I happily agreed to). He had come at around 8:30 (I was not a morning person at all, but he _definitely_ was). He had picked me up and we were on our way for breakfast. 

We had to make that quick, though. The forecast had called for rain all week, and the clouds hang low and dark and threatening. Mr. Eddie _did not_ want to be caught in that, and he told me firsthand (which was fine--rain wasn't my style, either). I mean, he hated rain, catching colds, being cold, or getting sick. I was quickly learning that he just didn't like germs in general.

"Did you miss me, Daddy-O?" I asked, leaning back a bit to admire my handiwork on his neck and jawline.

He looked over and smiled at me. "I did. You're all I really thought about... which is crazy, and I should stop that, but... it is what it is. What, did you miss _me_?"

"Don't ask such silly questions, Mr. Eds. 'Course I did!"

He gave me a little chuckle, taking one hand off the steering wheel to put it on my shoulder (but still driving absolutely seamlessly). "Eugh. Don't call me that. 'Mr. Eddie' is cute. 'Mr. Eddie Spaghetti' made me want to die at first... but it's cute. But _that?_ I'm sorry. It's a no from me."

"Aw, booo. That one's cute, too! Short, sweet, and to the point."

"No, no, no, no. Anything is better than that. Hell, I'd even take the other Spaghetti one you've called me over _that._ "

"What--Mr. Spaghetti Head?"

"When you call me that, I sound like that guy off of _Toy Story._ But yes. Even that." He cut his eyes in my direction, a slight smirk playing on his face. Was it a smirk? Or was I just horny? I dunno, but I thought he looked really fucking hot in that moment, that smirks fit him well. I wanted to climb into the backseat and see if I could wipe the smirk off his face.

Okay. Maybe I was just horny.

"Well, okay..." I said, and I downcast my eyes for dramatics. "...Mr. Eds."

He grinned and used his free arm to whack me on mine. _"Stop!"_

 

"You've never been in my house before, have you?" Mr. Eddie asked, even though we were pulling up in his driveway as we spoke.

"Nah, not yet," I said lamely. Because if I had ever been to a house like this (read: a mansion), I would _definitely_ have remembered it. Everything about it was pristine and orderly, just like him. The lawn was perfectly manicured and had those fancy decorative shrubs and everything. Shit, even the gate (yes, the gate) was shiny, unrusted, and had a "K" engraved on the doors.

Mr. Eddie gave another sweet smile. "Well... I hope you like it."

We actually got into the house, and how could I _not_ like it? The floors were so shiny I could see my reflection in them. I felt bad walking on it, even though I had shoes on. Or I guess the fact that I had shoes on made it even worse, because I could scruff the floors.

"Damn. It's gorgeous. You sure you don't need anymore space, babe?"

He blushed and smiled, but gave me a small sigh. "Well, I bought all of this with the intention of having a wife and some kids. But, uh..." he rubbed the back of his neck, similarly to how Ben Hanscom did at the party. "...That didn't happen."

"Aww... I'm sorry, Mr. Eddie. Didn't mean to upset you."

I got bent down so I could get a quick peck on the cheek. "Aw. No. Everything happens for a reason. 'Sides," he teased, "If I _had_ a wife... then I couldn't see you whenever I wanted, now could I?"

I smirked. "I guess not!"

He led me up the stairs to his room by his hand, and I'm not gonna lie... I was getting more and more excited each and every step we went up. He opened the door to his room, and I took note of all the cute pictures and knick-knacks that I saw.

He had a pink pill organizer on his nightstand. His bedroom set was made from a dark-stained wood. His walls were a royal blue. There were pictures of him and other people. A picture of an older lady hang right above his bed, and I assumed it was a portrait of his old lady. A picture right beside it that I assumed to be his old man.

"Pink's your favorite color, right?" I asked. Then, I teased: "Why not pink walls?"

He giggled. "The walls were blue when I bought this house. Couldn't bring myself to paint over them. Besides--that's too gaudy, don't you think?"

" _Nothing's_ too gaudy, baby," I told him. "We're all just stardust trying to have some fun." He grinned at this.

I walked over to another picture, one propped up on his drawer. The short, freckled brunet with the doe eyes was unmistakably a Mr. Eddie when I would've just called him Eddie. The young, smiling, very handsome redhead looked like a younger Bill The Author. They were hugging, and it looked like the picture was taken mid-laugh. The time stamp on the picture told me that the year was 1998.

"Aww, cute! You and Mr. Bill must go way back."

"'Way back?'" Mr. Eddie asked, and peered over my shoulder. "Don't make us seem _too_ old now, Honeybun. I was 19 in that picture. Bill was 20."

"Wasn't that, like, 50 years ago? Was this taken in sepia?"

Mr. Eddie snorted and made sure I saw him rolling his eyes. "Fuck you."

I twirled around on my heels and grinned, chasing him as he walked to the wall closest to his bed. "But isn't that what you want?" I asked, and leaned my arm against it, effectively pinning Mr. Eddie between me and said wall. He didn't back down. He crossed his arms, trying to give me a little steam... and he looked so cute when he stared up at me, his mouth a hard line on his face.

"No. Not anymore. You called me old."

"Aw, baby. Don't be that way. You know I was just kidding! You age like fine wine. Beautifully."

 _"Oh, nice save,"_ Mr. Eddie said sarcastically, even though he had lost all the fight he had left in him, because he moaned when I tilted his head to the side for access. I kissed on his jawline and his collarbone, just like he liked, and he reached up as much as he could and played in my hair. I kissed down farther and farther until I was on my knees, which even then, I came up to his torso. He chuckled, but still gave me an amused grin.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you remember, Mr. Eds? I told you when I came over here, that _I_ was gonna take care of _you._ Now turn around."

He didn't even fight me on the nickname; he just turned around ( _like a good little boy,_ I thought). He looked back over his shoulder, now with his chest and hands pressed up against the wall. This was more up my speed. I smirked, shimmying his pants down to his ankles as if I were unwrapping a present. Well, I _pretty much_ was. And _damn_ \--to my surprise, he was wrapped in a bright red bow.

I thought that was _so fucking hot._ Red is my favorite color.

 _"Ooh,_ Mr. Eddie in his reddies," I said low, hooking my fingers underneath the band and slipping those down, too.

"Stop it; you're embarrassing me," he said, trying to keep an even tone... but it came out in a whine, and his briefs were soaked.

"Am I really, now? Well, to me... it kinda looks like you _like_ being embarrassed." I spread his legs a little, giving one lick in between to test the sensitivity. Kinda like I were testing a TV screen calibration. He huffed, and I felt his legs quiver, so I was on the right footing. I chuckled and rubbed him with my index finger. I _loved_ this. I was enjoying myself a whole damn lot already.

"Oh my god," he huffed, and then he let out an airy laugh. I chuckled at how cute he was, but I didn't let off on the rubbing. _In fact,_ I wanted to hear him say that again, just in a different inflection, so I buried my entire face in between his legs and wanted to see how much he fancied getting eaten out from behind.

 _"Oh, my god,"_ he said, and moaned it this time. _There_ it was. I groaned and closed my eyes, trying to get my face in even deeper than what it already was. I felt him reach back and begin to run one of his hands in my hair. "R-Rich..."

I popped my head up, if only for just a second. " _Who?_ You gotta say the whole thing, baby."

_"Richie..."_

I took a finger and stuck it inside as slow as I could. "Mm. I didn't hear you."

 _"Richie!"_ he whined, and if he wasn't pressed up against a wall, he would've probably lost his balance and fell on the ground.

"That's right," I gushed. "What a good boy." And _I_ wasn't the only thing that was gushing when I said it--Mr. Eddie was like a water fountain, dripping down my arm and my fingers.

"Do you _like_ that? Do you _like_ being called a good boy, Mr. Eddie?"

"Oh fuck, _yes,_ " he gasped. Which also made my dick throb in my pants. I loved hearing him curse, in since he didn't do it very often. "I'm a _good little boy._ "

I smirked, sticking another finger in and hooking them, and I loved all of the beautiful sounds and curses I could pull from him. He kept muttering _oh fuck, Richie, fuck me_ over and over until he got louder and they were just stringed-together moans. I wish I could buy the soundtrack--Mr. Eddie moaning to the sound of falling rain. So I could listen to it any time I wanted. But right now, in the moment, would have to do. And it would _definitely_ get the job done.

I heard the sound of clicking, and to me it sounded like high heels walking up the stairs. Mr. Eddie's moans quieted instantly. I didn't realize what what the lady was saying until she got up to the top of the stairs. She was saying "Mr. Kaspbrak?" Which took me a while to realize who she was looking for. I didn't think I had heard Mr. Eddie's last name before.

But for some reason, her calling him by his last name, like he was super prestigious and professional... was hot _as fuck_ to me. I let out a low groan and pumped my fingers into him faster. He was squeaking, now trying to keep his volume down--but I didn't want any of that shit. I wanted her to hear us, or to walk in on us. Walk in on her boss, or whoever Mr. Eddie was to her, getting finger fucked by some college kid.

"R-Rich, just a second, that's Dolores, my assistant, she can't come in here, that's embarrassing," he whispered to me, still squeaking and letting out shaky gasps.

He strung together the entire sentence, just like that, in a rush--and I think it scared him when he wasn't in control of things. His entire life was planned and organized right down to the very T; him and Stan were a lot alike in that regard. But I think that sometimes, it's a little fun to let go of that control.

"Let her hear," I whispered back. "I mean, do you really want me to stop?"

 _"No, please,"_ he said, to my pleasant surprise. "Please don't stop... I'm so close..."

"Then cum for me, pretty boy," I demanded. Dolores, his assistant, got closer and closer to the door, looking for him.

"Mr. Kaspbrak? Are you here?"

 _"Oh, my god,"_ he said again, half-moan, half-whisper.

"Mr. Kaspbrak...?"

"Tell her you'll be out in a minute."

"Eddie?"

I could almost hear the click in his throat he swallowed and tried to make his voice light and even: "Oh! Dolores! I'm in my room. I'll be out in just a second."

"Good boy." I pumped my fingers so hard I could've broken my arm. "Now cum for me, Mr. Eddie."

"O-oh _, oh god, oh fuck,"_ he gasped, trying to scratch and grip against the wall, and he had to bite against his hand to not be so loud. I'll give him one thing--he had _great_ restraint. Even as he gushed onto my arm and the carpet and he was shaking like he was out in the cold, the only noise he made was a low groan.

I smirked, pulling my fingers out and spreading them apart to play with the fluids. "Great! I'm happy now. You should like, totally go see what she wants."

I pulled back up his pants and his underwear and let him off the wall. When he turned and faced me, I saw that his face was completely red. " _Richie!_ Don't do that again," he whispered, but he didn't seem too mad at me because he was grinning. "We almost got caught. If she would've come in here... I would've kicked your ass."

"Aww, c'mon! We had fun! Don't be that way, babe!"

He chuckled. "Whatever. I'm going to go see what she wants. Make yourself comfortable."

He took a small little tube from his drawer, and it took me a while to realize that it was an aspirator. He took a few puffs from it and fixed his hair, trying to put all the strands back in place like they were before.

I plopped myself onto Mr. Eddie's bed, falling in love with his expensive ass silk sheets and pillows that smelled like him. I heard him and Dolores chatting in the hallway about work stuff, and even laughing here and there.

I didn't even realize that I had dozed off until I woke up a few hours later. Mr. Eddie was snuggled up behind me, his head in the crook of my neck. It was raining even harder than before, so we weren't going anywhere. I figured we could just stay in. He was asleep, and he looked so peaceful. So I dozed off again, because I wanted to be peaceful, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie: hey Mr. Eddie could you get Mr. Bill's autograph for my friend?  
> Eddie: is that friend single? He asked did you have any friends he could talk to lmao


	4. Young & Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it about a tall boy with curly dark hair that drives you wild?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas eve and i hope everybody has a good one  
> my heart's just never in the holidays anymore
> 
> i'm sorry my chapters are always so long u guys?? like,,,, end me,,,,

It rained through Friday. It rained more on Saturday. And _even more_ on Sunday. And it looked like it was going to rain through Monday.

The rain had slacked just a bit to where it was just drizzling now. But the clouds still hung dark and low--low enough for me to cock my head up at the sky with anxiety every now and then. I _didn't_ want it to rain anymore. Even Bill, who lived in the UK for years (until Audra passed) and _loved_ the rain, was getting sick of it.

"They must want us to swim away," he joked, but even he cocked his head up and grimaced. "Hm. Maybe we should sit this one out."

And by "sit this one out", he meant the gala that was that evening. Which I was not about to allow us to do. I invited Richie to this one, as per usual (maybe he _was_ my eye candy; I don't know), and I really didn't want to cancel. If I did, that meant that we wouldn't be able to see each other until Sunday of the upcoming week. And also, we _weren't_ going to sit it out, because

"I pulled a lot of strings for you, Denbrough," I joked. "Richie said that he asked his roommate to tag along this time. And he agreed. Hell, you may not even like him, but we're going to find out tonight."

"Oh?" Bill asked, amused, raising his faint, light, eyebrows up at me. "Excellent. And _speaking_ of Richie... is that why you're wearing that?"

I looked down, blushing a little, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of my clothes. "Wearing what. This outfit? Does it look bad?"

He smiled. "No. You could wear a paper bag and you'd still look good, Eddie. I mean the color, though. You _hate_ red."

"When have I ever said that?"

"I dunno," Bill shrugged. "All the time? 'Oh, Turtle--I can't wear red because I'm _so pale._ It washes me out. It makes me look sick. It makes me look like a vampire. Who do you think I am--Edward Cullen?'" He shot his voice up several octaves, widened his eyes, and then batted his eyelashes. I chuckled. Hm, so he had jokes? He thought he was _so funny?_ He burst out into little snickers. "No, but seriously. I didn't even think you owned a single article of red clothing. Save for underwear, maybe. Maybe not even _that._ "

_Red underwear._

_Mr. Eddie in his reddies._

I bit my lip.

"Well! I'm trying to expand my wardrobe to darker colors," I said with a smile. But then I slipped up. "Richie thinks that I look nice in red. He was kind of an inspiration for it."

"I knew it," Bill said, still giggling like some kid. "Like I said the other day--you're enamored with him. Enamored! I'm telling you!"

"Shut up! I can't be a Bubblegum Bitch forever! I'm getting too old for that. Richie--"

 _"Enamored!"_ Bill pointed at me, and he kept on pointing at me, chanting _enamored, enamored, enamored--_ chasing me around the house until we both broke out into laughter. Like it was 1998 again.

* * *

"Do I look snazzy enough?" Richie asked me.

I was standing on my tiptoes, fixing his tie, with him holding onto my waist for balance. I smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. "'Course you do, Honeybun. You look great. Are you going to wear your dress-coat, too?"

"Nah. I can't look like I'm trying _too_ hard, Mr. Spaghetti Head. I gotta have that effortless professional look." He broke out into a grin, and bent down and gave me another kiss on the lips. He rubbed up and down my sides, only a couple of times... but it sent me straight into daydreams of me being sprawled out on his bed.

"Effortless," I smirked. "Okay, whatever."

Stan came out into the living room, and I have to say--I _really_ loved his etiquette. His attire was clean and crisp; very professional, with a button-down shirt, bow tie, and a vest, and all of it looked ironed. His hair was sleeked back into a neat ponytail. Not a single strand of his curly hair was out of place, but he did leave two curls out by his temples, and they brushed against his ears. The accents on his outfit were light blue... he went the extra mile for even his braces to tie into the outfit. That was a really sharp touch.

His meticulousness and orderliness was fascinating and struck envy in me. His attention to detail and order reminded me so strongly of someone... but for the life of me I couldn't think of whom.

He noticed me looking at him in admiration and Richie looking at him in dumbfounded shock, so he sighed lightly. "What?"

"Damn, Stan. Who ya going on a date with? _The Pope?_ "

Stan batted his eyelashes twice, unphased. "Yeah. He's really sweet."

I snickered, surprised by Stan's dry humor, and in return he gave a crooked half-smile. Richie looked at me with his dark, alluring eyes, and my giggles died out with the emergence of a blush.

"Glad you appreciated that," Stan said. "Anyway. I'm ready now. If you guys are." He looked at me, his stony face warming up just a bit; his eyebrows furrowing just a tad slightly. "I never caught your last name. What is it?"

"Kaspbrak?" I said, confused.

"Well. It's nice to formally meet you, Mr. Kaspbrak. We met on bad terms last time. I was literally half-naked. So I apologize. I wanted to apologize then, but Richie gave us that shitty introduction." He shrugged. "So it kinda died there."

I smiled. "You're fine, Stanley. Wait. Which do you prefer? Stanley or Stan?"

"Stan." He crossed his arms--it seemed to me that his aloofness was a defense mechanism, because he shuffled on his feet and downcast his eyes to the floor. Oh, god I hope I wasn't embarrassing him by being so lovey on Richie. I would feel really bad.

Richie suddenly threw himself to the ground--on his knees, and at Stan's feet. I jumped, and Stan's eyes widened for a millisecond before going back to normal again. " _Stan the Man!_ Do you forgive me? Do you forgive me for my shitty introduction? Please say yes! Please _have mercy on me!"_

Stan made a noise. I couldn't tell if it was a scoff or a chuckle. "Richie. Get up."

"I'm just a poor ole boy, Mr. Uris!" Richie rambled on. "I just tries my hardest to get by! My job is giving shitty introductions to people. That's my _career!_ It only pays $3 an hour. But that's what I have to do. I do what I can to support my family! Do you want my family to _starve,_ Mr. Uris? Please have mercy on this poor boy!"

"Get the hell off the ground," Stan said, completely deadpan.

I snickered again, trying my hardest not to laugh at Richie's shenanigans. The corner of Stan's mouth twitched, but he didn't dignify Richie with even a smirk. He just grabbed him by the arm and led him out the door, letting me leave before the two of them. Richie kept up his silly roleplay until we made it into the car, and by then I was finally laughing--and hard by then. And Stan had cracked and finally smiled.

It made me happy--their friendship was so quirky and charming. It would probably be egotistic to say they reminded me of Bill and I... but they really did. I saw our youth in them. That same fire in their eyes.

 

 _"Where is he?"_ Bill whined, and I chuckled and shook my head. I had told Richie and Stan that they were free to mingle around the party, and that I would get us all a table. They were free to join the table whenever they wanted. Honestly, I only did this to bide myself some time. I had to ask Bill a few questions, _and then_ he could any question that he wanted about Stan.

"With Rich," I answered coolly. "Don't worry, Romeo. They're coming back. They're just hanging out with Beverly and their friend, Mike. And he came with Beverly. So they're going to be chatting for a while."

"A detour!" Bill exclaimed. "You detoured them... for what, though?"

"Well, I can't ask you when he's around." I took a deep breath. " I was going to ask you... you know Yazzy Black, right?"

Bill blinked. "Hm? Yeah! He's over Channel 101.9. He does the talk show in the morning? Why--"

Then, realization slapped Bill completely in the face and replaced his confusion with a smirk. "I see your game. What did I tell you earlier? You're ena--"

"I just want the best for him!" I said quickly, flustered. "My Rich deserves nothing less."

"I thought comedy was more of his thing?" Ben said with a grin, as he came up with a glass of white wine. "I can get you in touch with Yazzy _and_ DJ Heartbeat. Oh! And Yolanda and James. They're the two the best comedians on this side of the tracks. That I've ever seen anyway. James also does ventriloquism, if that's up Rich's alley."

"Oh, Ben! Thank you!" I pulled him into a hug and air kissed him on both cheeks. "You're going to make him _so_ happy. Seriously."

Ben smiled, returning the gesture. "Of course, man."

"I've seen Yolanda and James," Bill said. "Really good stand-up! But DJ Heartbeat?" He broke out into a series of giggles, almost spilling his glass of wine. "What kinda name is _that?_ Is _he_ a comedian? Because that name is pretty up there."

"Nah, but he should be. The dude's hilarious. Honestly, most of my friends are really funny. Except you guys. You guys are the only unfunny people I hang around."

"Fuck you!" Bill yelled, still laughing, and Ben threw his head back and joined in. I smiled, drawing my hand back like I was going to hit Ben, and he flinched and said _"Eddie, nooo!"_ But then we all quieted again when we saw the younger adults up by the stage. We all zoned in on them, enthralled.

"Honestly, don't tell Beverly, obviously... but... it always makes me feel really shitty when she brings all these dudes around," Ben mumbled, eyeing Beverly laughing as she tried to push Stan and their friend Mike on the stage. Mike was laughing, and him and Richie were tugging at Stan's arm, trying to persuade him to do something. "I know they're her friends, and I shouldn't be this way. But, they're all her age. And..." he sighed. "I dunno."

Then, he looked at me. "Do you feel that way with Richie?"

"Huh?" I asked, but I already knew what he meant.

"Do you feel like he's just going to leave you for a guy their age?"

I smiled, but the thought made me want to burst into tears. "Well... yeah, sometimes."

"Aw, don't be that way," Bill said, smiling at us out of the corner of his eye, and my heart fluttered because my stupid mind correlated that phrase to Richie. "We aren't that old. Don't be too hard on... what. What are they doing?"

We whipped our heads back over to the kids near the stage. People could go up to the stage and volunteer to sing and entertain for the gala... and I'm guessing that's what they were trying to do. I snickered with the thought of Richie going up there and doing some stand-up... but I didn't want to have to drag him off the stage if he got too rowdy. But maybe so... because that meant I would have to punish him later.

But I digress. Stan had gotten on the stage, shrugged, and told the stage director what he was volunteering to do. Beverly, Richie, and Mike cheered when a soft piano riff began to fill up the ballroom.

"I guess Bill is right," Ben said, shaking his head as if in a trance. "We shouldn't worry about it too much. But I'm going to call James and see if him and Yolanda would like Richie. Which I know they will."

He pulled out his phone right on cue with Stan's alto-like voice singing softly over the song's instrumental. It sounded like Lana Del Rey? But I didn't know for sure. The song was slow and sweet and powerful. I heard the piano in the instrumental. Ben's phone ringing. Bill's slow, rhythmic breathing. Richie's laughter. He was a beautiful sound. He was like music.

James must've picked up. "Hey, man!" Ben started. "How ya been? Oh, that's good! Nah, we're a party." He laughed. "Yeah. I'll tell them you guys said hi!"

I tapped my fingers on the table nervously. I even wanted to cross my fingers and hope to God that it went well.

Bill didn't say anything. His eyes were glued to the stage, and I could even feel his blues tracking every slight sway that Stan made. It was like he was in a trance, or like nothing else existed.

"...That's--James!" More laughter. "You read my mind! Yeah! Eddie... well, that's fun! I think he'll really like that! Hm? Oh, yeah. Eddie has a _friend,_ " Ben smirked at me as he said 'friend', "that can laugh his way out of a paper bag. You guys wanna meet him and see what's up? I think you'll--who else? You're crazy! You and Yolanda!"

It seemed like it was going well. I let out a shaky breath.

More talking.

More tapping.

More staring.

"Great! ...Really? That soon? Ah dude, you're making me blush. Ya gonna make Ed and his boyfriend really happy. I'll ask him a time, and get back to you on it! But yeah, other than like life stuff he has to take care of, I think he'll be down for it. Thanks so much, James."

Stan seemed like he was getting to the end of the song, but Bill didn't take his eyes off still. It looked like his eyes were watering up, even.

"You won't be disappointed! Okay, man. I won't forget! See ya."

_"He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds..."_

"So, James wants to meet Richie next week!" Ben told me, and I let out the breath I was holding. I smiled and gave him a quick hug, and he broke out into a smile. I was giddy with excitement. I couldn't wait to see Richie's face whenever we broke the news to him. Like many things, the thought made me want to cry. 

_"Wow..."_ Bill said, and as soon as the instrumental of the song cut off, he stood up and gave applause.

Other people in the audience followed suit, and in seconds, the entire audience was giving Stan a standing ovation. (I'm pretty sure if Richie was in the vicinity, he would've made a joke--like " _stan_ ding ovation"). Ben and I clapped and waved our hands so that the kiddos would see us. Beverly, Mike, and Richie grinned and waved. Stan's entire face was red, and he had that signature half-smile on his face as Mike helped him off the stage. Him and Richie clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair, obviously complimenting his performance.

Then, the four of them located us again and walked over to the table. Richie bent down and shamelessly gave me a kiss on the lips with an exaggerated _mwahh._

 

"Stanley!" I said with a smile, then I corrected myself. "Oops--Stan. I didn't know you could sing! You did so well!"

"I thought it was terrible," he said, almost as if he acting on instinct. But then he quickly followed up with "But thank you..." and Richie glanced over at him and beamed. He threw his arm over Stan's shoulder for good measure.

" _I thought_ was the most beautiful singing I've ever heard," Bill said--with such awe and sincerity behind it that I was convinced that he had fallen in love.

Stan's eyes were downcast again, but then they shot back up quickly. "W-what? Really?"

"Yeah! It was amazing," Mike told him and rubbed his arm, and when Stan smiled at Mike, I could see that tell-tale firey jealousy in Bill's eyes.

Bev laughed. She looked like a proud mom. "You fucking _killed it,_ babe!"

Stan smiled--a full on, ear-to-ear smile--and his whole face flushed again. I noticed that him and Richie both smiled with their eyes--I noticed that they had _a lot_ of mannerisms that were similar, but they just showed them through their personalities in different ways. Ben and Bill joined in on the good vibes--but Bill's laugh was a lot lighter, his smile a lot brighter.

"Hey, Rich... I've got surprise for you," I whispered in his ear. "You're going to meet with a couple of connections next week, whenever you're free. Would you like that?"

"Connections?" He asked. Then he broke out to a grin that was as wide as Stan's--looked similar, too. "No. Mr. Eddie. You didn't. You're bullshitting me."

"No!" I smiled. "But you've gotta thank Ben for it. He's the one who called and made it happen."

His smile seemed to grow even bigger, and he looked from me to Ben to me again. He put one of his hands up to his mouth. He looked like he was going to cry. _I_ wanted to cry.

He pulled me into a hug, laughing into my neck and ruffling my hair. "You're amazing," he said. "You know that? You're the package deal. Smart and sweet and cute. We haven't even known each other that long, and you're already changing my fucking life. Why you do that, Mr. Eddie?"

"What?" I laughed.

"Why do you make it so easy to love you?"

My heart fluttered. I knew that he was kidding; surely he couldn't be in love with me that quickly (or love me at all). I knew that it was just an expression, but I also knew that I cared so deeply for him already. And I would do anything that I could for him. And I knew that he would do the same thing... I just felt that it was that way.

Bill couldn't talk about me anymore. If he tried to tease me, I would tease him right back. He had _no_ room to talk. There he was, probably taking Stan's performance as a declaration or a personal serenade. And here I was, getting giddy and doped up that Richie, Richard Tozier, had hugged me and was cute when he called me 'Mr. Eddie' and asked me how I was so easy to _love._

Shit, we were _both_ enamored.

Like we were 19 and 20.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: dude why are there 40 roses on our porch


	5. Long Tall Sally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or more like Long Tall James, because he's even taller than Rich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stan if u stop being cute maybe guys will stop crushing on you  
> also more smut wow toby *smirks as i write the shit*
> 
> also i hope u guys had a great holiday season!!! mine was p good this year!

The rain had finally stopped by Monday evening, but we didn't get any of those happy, cheery skies on Tuesday. It was still overcast, with those sad, droopy little clouds still hanging kind of low in the sky... but the forecast said that the rain was all done.

"You're gonna get sick like that," Stan told me, giving me his best Stanley Uris Squint™. "The air is still all wonky. So I don't think you can get away with wearing a short-sleeve shirt."

"I think it should be fine," I said and gave him a crooked grin, showing equally crooked teeth. "Thou art worry too much, my love." He shrugged at me and gave me one of his famous Stanley Uris Half-Smiles™--but emotion wise, nothing else.

"Hey, that's you," he said. And he threw on a jacket.

I was so fucking excited. Today, we were going to meet Yolanda and James, the two comedians that were rang up by Mr. Eddie and Ben the Architect. They were closer to our age then they were Mr. Eddie and his friend's ages; Yolanda was turning 26, I was told, and James was 24. I just sprouted into my Twenty Life back in July, and Stan's 20th was in December, so we weren't nearly as far in age as we had originally thought.

They were a good contrast, too. Yolanda was a short chick, lightly tanned skin, and her hair was blonde. But her eyebrows and the roots of her hair were dark, so blonde wasn't her natural hair color. Even still, she contrasted with James with his skyscraper height and his curly dark hair. He kept it really short; some of the curls grazed the very top of his ears. But both of them had goofy smiles and super bright eyes. I liked them already.

"So _there's_ the man of the hour!" Yolanda exclaimed as me and Stan walked into the coffee shop that we were meeting at. "And he brought a friend. The more the merrier! Sit down!" 

I laughed, and Stan looked from mine to their faces with wariness. There was only so much vivaciousness that his little introverted heart could take! I would be sure not to tire him out _too_ much. 

"That's okay, though," Yolanda went on, pulling Stan into a hug and kissing him on both cheeks. She pointed over to James with one of her thumbs. "I understand if you got dragged along. I had to drag _him_ along, too. I'm Yolanda, by the way! Yolanda Martinez. In case you didn't know." 

I snickered and Stan even gave her chuckle at this. James took one of Stan's hands and placed a light kiss on it. "And _I'm_ The King of Everything! James Rosenblatt." 

"Pleased to meet you lovely people," I said with an honorific bow from my seat. "That's Stan the Man. Richard Tozier is _my_ name, doing Voices is my game. But I just go by Richie, Rich, Rich the Bitch..." 

Yolanda gave a wide grin, and James's eyes lit up. "Hm, Richie. Voices, you say? Well, let's hear some of them! If you don't mind?"

"Voices! Voices! Voices!" Yolanda chanted. James started bouncing up and down on his feet. I smirked, beamed, and cleared my voice, doing an easier one to start out with.

"Stewie, what... what the hell is all of this?" I asked in my Brian Griffin voice, gesturing to the air around me. Stan shook his head, but I saw him grinning. Hard. He loved it when I did my Voices. And if I can impress Stan, of all people... then I can impress anybody. "Is this some sort of time machine or something?"

"Are you impressed, Brian?" James smirked, not skipping a beat and jumping right into a complementary Stewie voice. "You should be. After doing some perfecting to the gears, the world is now at my disposal. I've got the perfect hiding place for it, so the woman--"

Yolanda cut him off. She hiked her voice up to do a Louis. "Stewie, it's time for your snack!" she said, grinning at the both of us. James and I grinned back. Stan looked like he was having a field day (which filled me with a new feeling of happiness and pride). 

"Damn it to hell," James responded with simply, and all four of us finally cracked up and started to laugh.

 

"You know, Rich? You're really winning my heart," Yolanda told me. We had all sat down and were finishing off the last little bit of our coffees. (Well, I wasn't a big fan, so I opted for lemonade instead). By the way that James kept on glancing at Stan, with his head tilted to the side and his eyes smiling... it seemed like _I_ wasn't the one that was winning his heart.

"But that's the crazy thing," I said with a smirk. "You guys are winning mine!"

"We should totally all hang out and write some skits with each other. We've got some performances coming up next month. We really want you on with us!"

"Sounds like a plan to me, sista," I said, winking, trying to contain my excitement... but then I felt Stan's hand squeeze my wrist a little under the table and I couldn't help it. I glanced over at Stan, and he answered me with a wink of his own and another half-smile. That was (and always had been) Stan's non-verbal cue for _Look at_ you, _Rich. Good job._

James perked up. "Honestly, that'd be dope. You should both come. We can eat food, joke off, have a drink or two. It'd be fun!"

"Are y'all up for Saturday?" Yolanda asked, and Stan was about to object until James broke off into a Morty voice.

" _This_ Saturday? Oh geez, I dunno Yolanda; that's Yom Kippur, remember..."

Stan chuckled again. "Yeah, I was going to say the same thing. I'm no dice, sadly. Are you guys okay with next Saturday?"

Me and Yolanda had agreed and ruffled the hair on our cute Jewish friends' heads. The meeting had gone super well, and we all exchanged numbers so we could hang out the next weekend. James had texted me a little shortly after. I got a call from Mr. Eddie while we were in the truck on the way home, so I couldn't look at his message right away--maybe that was his saving grace. Because I'm sure if I would've read it in the car, I would've burst into laughter and he would've been embarrassed. It simply said:

**Hey... is Stan single?**

I cracked up in the comfort of my room. My poor Stan must've had a Cupid's Bow stuck in his back nowadays.

* * *

"I'm glad it went so well!" Mr. Eddie said as soon as he saw me, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek.

But I wasn't wanting that today. I wanted those lips. I pulled him into me, smirked, and lifted him off the ground a little, and placed a kiss there and on his jawline. He laughed, but it was raspy, husky... maybe he wanted it tonight, too.

"It wouldn't have happened at _all_ if it weren't for you and that meddling Ben," I told him. He chuckled, rolling his eyes as I put him back on the ground. Like the other day, he grabbed me by the hand and led me up the stairs to his room.

 

And then we were sitting on his bed. I was propped up against the headboard, my back supported by a bajillion pillows. Mr. Eddie was sitting in between my legs, tilting his head back and laying it on my chest. He was in lounging clothes today, so I could finally see him in his true, Freckled Banana form. There seemed to be a million of them dusted on his arms, shoulders, and elbows from what I could see.

And there was another thing. He was wearing a white t-shirt and some red shorts. Ever since our fun little wall escapades, I noticed that Mr. Eddie was wearing more and more red. It was almost like he was... I dunno. _Inviting me in._ I found that super fucking erotic; that on top of the fact that his smiles were a little more devilish now, his kisses a little more longing, his eyes a little darker. I didn't know if he was doing that on purpose or not. But if he _was_ , it was bordering on the edge of being cruel.

"So no offense, but we _really_ need to get you a new car," Mr. Eddie told me.

I cackled. "None taken, Mr. Spaghetti Head. I mean, you've _seen_ the truck. It's a piece of shit!"

"As long as you know," he chuckled, humming at me absentmindedly kissing his neck, and him playing with some of the curls of my hair. It was really domestic, me and him. I liked it that way. Stan had saw how we acted after the party the other day and told me when we got home that Mr. Eddie and I acted like a married couple. But even married couples like to get a little naughty.

"Did you want another truck?" he asked, and he looked over his shoulder so he could look at me. "Hm, tell you what. We'll go to a dealership to look and go from there. Is that okay?"

"Yes sir!" I said. "Oh, also. Can I ask you a question?"

He hummed, then smiled. "Mm. What is it, babe?"

"You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"

From the side profile of Mr. Eddie's face that I could see, I saw his eyebrows furrow. "Huh? Doing what?"

My hands started roaming up his sides and on his thighs. " _This._ Wearing all the red. You know it's my favorite color. And if you wear it, I can't resist you. So, are you doing it on purpose?"

 _"Mmm, maybe,"_ he said teasingly, and the furrowed brows vanished completely in favor of a smile and a lip bite. I thought he was so _fucking_ hot when he did that. He must of felt my boner poking him in the spine, because he squirmed around and gave me another one of those husky, naughty, giggles. But I could knock that giggle out of him _quickly._ Because as soon as I slipped my hand in those sinful red shorts, he stopped instantly.

I chuckled, already soaking in all of his little gasps and whispered moans. "Jesus _Christ,_ Mr. Eddie. You're already so wet."

"Shut up," he huffed, but to no avail, because he was already trying to buck into my hand. He kept on squirming and wiggling, so I grabbed one of his hips with my free hand and kept him in place. I felt more warm, silky wetness coat my fingers and drip onto his bed. He even cocked his legs open more for me. I had to tell him how much I liked that.

 _"Good boy,"_ I whispered more in his ear, and licked the shell of it. My fingers were pretty much drenched from there. He let out a noise--a little whisper, a little whine--and shimmied off his shorts the best that he could in the restraints. And then that's when I saw it. The little tart had on _more_ red underwear. These were different than the red briefs he had on the other day; these were silkier, lacier. So he really _was_ doing it on purpose.

I slipped my hands out of his underwear, and he turned around so that we were facing each other. His blush was so dark that I could barely see the freckles on his face. But his eyes were darker again, his smirk was infectious... and then he rubbed his hand along my jogging pants and grabbed the bulge there. I was harder than I thought could be humanly possible; he seemed to take note of this and bit his lip again.

"Not so fast," he said. "We're not just focusing on me again. I wanna..." He slid the joggers and the boxers off, his eyes widening at my little guy that sprung out to play. "...focus on you."

"Don't you do that enough already?" I started to tease, but I got shut the fuck instantly by Mr. Eddie licking the top of the head, pulling back and showing off a considerable spit-trail. _God dammit._ Why did he instantly have a knack for knowing shit that I liked? I was fucked.

He did it again, then closed his eyes started bobbing up and down slowly. I was captivated, zoning in on everything. It was kind of like the first time we met, but with much darker pretenses. His eyelashes were so long and pretty, and at first I thought he had on extensions. His hands were so tiny that he had to grab my dick with both of his hands. And he was a vocal type of guy. He was humming and moaning as he sucked, then coughed and gasped only a little when I held his head down. I pulled him back off and he gave me a another spit trail... and a grin.

 _"Do that again,"_ he said--and rather sweetly, too... but his eyes were still dark and glinted.

"No can do, Mr. Spaghetti!" I said, throwing him backwards onto the bed. "If I do it again, then I'm gonna cum."

He giggled at this, cocking his legs open more again so I wiggle between them. I rubbed my hands along those cute, red little briefs, and then slid them smoothly. I made him raise up his arms so I could take off his shirt... and his binder was red, too.

"Okay, you caught me," he said, and broke up laughing.

"You little _tart!_ " I yelled, reaching back to grab one of the pillows so I could hit him with it, and he started to laugh louder. Then, I grabbed my pants again and clumsily looked through the pockets until I pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. Okay... so maybe Mr. Eddie wasn't the _only one_ who had planned for it.

His eyes lit up when he realized this, and his little devilish smirk seemed to grow three sizes that day. His hand trailed down between his legs and he rubbed himself as I put the condom on, never taking his eyes off me.

"I don't think we're gonna need the lube," he told me, and I gave him a playful grin.

"Yeah, I figured as much," I teased, propping his legs up so that his ankles grazed my shoulders. "Are you ready, Lil' Man?"

"Mmmhmm," he answered, his smile wide, but his eyebrows furrowed as I pushed it in slowly.

I pushed in to the hilt, testing his reaction. But he seemed to love it and gave me the okay, those two magic words:  _fuck me._

So fucking we did. 

So we did quite a bit of positions (like missionary and cowgirl, and on our sides), but I found out that Mr. Eddie's favorite was prone-boning. I had him resting on his elbows and knees (propped up on a few pillows) for _my_ favorite position, and he seemed to like it a lot, too. I rubbed on his hips and smacked his ass and bent forward just a bit so I could pull his hair--which I honestly didn't think he'd like. But again, testing the waters... and I'm glad I did. He had arched his back and hissed and let thousands of dirty things spill out of his mouth.

_"Oh Rich, fuck yeah, spank me, pull my fucking hair, I'm such a fucking slut, a dirty little whore, fuck your dirty little whore, just like that, fuck me Rich!"_

I gave him a slap so hard that it stung my hand, and he arched his back into me again.

" _rrRRRIIICCCH!_ " He gave me another _mmm,_ this one bordering on the verge of desperation. He was close. I was close. I wanted--nah, _I needed_ \--to act like we were bungee jumping or something, because I wanted to push us both over that edge.

"Say it again," I demanded. "You're my little _what?_ "

_"I'm your dirty little whore!"_

"Hmm, what a _good boy,_ " I beamed.

He took the pillows from underneath him and tossed them lightly to the side so he could lay flat on the bed. He kept his legs spread and hooked them around my waist, and I lowered down so I could lay on top of him and kiss his shoulders and neck. Being this low on the bed, I could hear the mattress squeaking, Mr. Eddie's breath whistling in his chest, and his sweet little moans. I growled and panted, kissed his ear, and whispered tons of dirty things of my own.

"Damn Eddie, you're so fucking warm and tight," I whispered. He mewled, and gave me a low groan.

"Call me Eddie again, baby," he whispered back.

"Eddie, _fuck."_

Mr. Eddie let out one last shuddering moan, and his hips jerked up hard twice. I groaned one last time, and we stayed like that for a little while. Mr. Eddie gave me another happy _mmm,_ and we both smiled and laughed lightly. Then, I rolled on my back and pulled him on my chest.

"That was fun," I said, and grinned. Mr. Eddie giggled and gave me a mischievous smile.

"It was," he said. "But I actually wasn't planning on us doing that, contrary to popular belief. I was _going_ to take us to the dealership, but you roped me into _this._ "

"We can always go tomorrow," I snickered, running my hands through his hair. "The cars ain't gonna just get up and walk away!"

"Piss off," he said, but it was half-hearted, and he giggled again... and I didn't even realize that we had fallen asleep again. Everyone knows that I don't like waxing poetic. But it really was too bad that it wasn't raining today, because that would've been the perfect complement to the serenity that I had felt in my heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill: Yeah Yolanda and James are not funny  
> Ben: But I thought you said they were the other ??? day ???  
> Bill: t h e y ' r e n o t


	6. Melancholy Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Money can't always buy happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> half fluff half angst? i'm garbage
> 
> also a vampire apparently bc i usually only upload late at night

Despite typically hating the rain, I found myself longing for it when I woke up. It would've been nice to hear Rich's light snores, and the rain pitter-pattering against my window, and to smell his cologne. It would've also calmed my nerves quite a bit... because I had a bad dream.

It's crazy. My thoughts wouldn't even let me have even a month of happiness without the anxious, paranoid, sad-boy undertones. Just like me, it was getting old. Yeah, the rain would've been great. I could've heard concrete, actual sounds instead of static-y white noise. It drove me up the wall. But hearing Rich sleep, smelling Old Spice, and feeling his arms wrapped around my waist grounded me back to where I needed to be.

I glanced up over my headboard and saw my mother's face. It was her. Her and Myra. They were always the sources of the dreams. Their looks, their weight, their mannerisms--strikingly similar. I used to joke with Myra and say that she was the reincarnation of my mother. Nowadays, I'm sure she is.

I sat up in bed, looked around the room, momentarily forgot where I was. I was suddenly painfully aware that I didn't have a binder on. _That._ That was one thing about Myra--even though we didn't last, at least she made an effort to try to understand. Mother never did. There was nothing I could ever do to make my mother happy. Not with my perfect grades in school, not with taking my vitamins on time, not to missing a single appointment. Not with becoming successful. Nothing. I tried to be the perfect son. I tried to. 

I couldn't be.

The pills on my nightstand. All of the ones that I take on a daily basis: my multivitamins, mainly. Those wouldn't do. I had Tylenol, and Midol, and Advil. Would those do? I could get Valium, if I wanted it. Fentanyl. Those would do. Those would kill me.

But why was I _thinking_ about shit like this? Why couldn't I just be happy? Richard made me happy. But life didn't like to be fair to me; she was a cruel mistress. I knew she would take him away from me, too.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," I heard from the other side of the bed, and I whipped my head around to look at Richie. I must've looked ghostly and terrible, because that was the first time I had ever seen that level of alarm on his face. He sat up and fixed the fringe of hair that was in his eyes--maybe that was a nervous habit. "Hey, babe... why are you are crying? What's wrong?"

 _"I'm crying?"_ I asked, genuinely, and I touched my cheeks to verify. He gave me a little amused smile, but nothing more. He snuggled up to the side of me and wrapped his arms around my torso; I put my arms over his. I felt warmer already.

"Well... yeah, silly goose. Why?"

I sighed. "I dunno... I just have really bad dreams sometimes. Just residual pain, I guess. I keep on having this one about my ex wife where

 

_I came into the house. I was still getting used to it; I had just bought it. It set me on edge. Surely, Myra must've had to been home, unless she decided to go out to work or hang out with some of her girlfriends. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she was hurt, or something. I didn't surely want that. I walked into the kitchen, figuring that she would be there--guiltily. But needless to say, she was. She was sitting at the table--a red dress on, matching lips, and black pumps. Her hair was curled and pretty. So she was going to go out somewhere?_

_"This came in the mail today," she said--and honestly? The way she said it scared me. It sounded like she didn't even know where she was. Like she was half-asleep. She handed the letter to me, and with (great) disdain, I realized that it was a doctor's bill. I looked at it, dumbly, for a few seconds, and I could see her shake her head. Not angrily, it didn't look like, just... confused._

_"What does it mean, Eddie? I'm sorry for intruding, I'm sorry if it makes you angry, I'm just... I just want to understand. Please help me try!"_

_I sat down, talking slowly so I didn't get sidetracked and that she would understand. We've had a conversation like this before; before we even actually started dating. But maybe it was misconstrued... I gave her a smile. "It's the bill for my hormones, Marty. Do you remember when I told you I took those? Yeah... that's all it is. And a price estimate for all of the surgeries. We can get married after the surgeries, remember? ...Remember, Marty?"_

_She suddenly burst into tears--something she did a lot. "But I don't wanna wait! What if you hurt yourself? What if they don't go right? What if they do something wrong? You can take all the hormones you want, Eddie--just_ please _don't do that! I can't bear to lose you! And I can't bare to wait! Can we get married, Eddie? Do we really have to wait? Can we get married right now?"_

_I frowned. I pondered for a long time. "Sure, honey. If that... if that'll make you happy. I just thought... that you wanted me to have surgery. Because then I'd--"_

_"No! I don't care about that! I only care about you. For who you are. For_ all _that you are._ I love you!"

_And then she pulled me into a hug, her perfume wafting around me, her smudgy eyeliner tears soaking into my sweater. I felt such a strong love for her--not romantic like she wanted... but care and the strongest, most innate desire to protect her. It always seemed like it was going to turn out to be such a good thing. But then, I would feel her chest heaving against mine--not from crying. Something more sinister. She would be laughing. It would startle the hell out of me; I would pull away from her... but it wouldn't be Myra anymore. It would be Mother._

_"She's lying, Eddie," she would say, her voice coming out in whistling hisses. "She doesn't love you. She never has loved you. She will leave you, like everybody else has. And will. Nobody will stay--except for me! Your Mama. Nobody can love you like your Mama does. I'm the only one who will never leave. And you will never leave me. Because I'm the perfect mother. And you're the perfect daughter. Eddie... Eugenia... perfect daughter... perfect daughter... perfect_

 

daughter?" Richie asked. I shivered against his arms, my own breath sounding like a runaway train. "I guess I'm just confused. Like, you _told_ her you were a dude. How is that so hard to understand?"

"I..." I started, but then I shook my head. I didn't know how to elaborate on all of my feelings. I didn't think I was even able to. "I try so hard to be perfect. And even with all this money, I couldn't do it. She always told me that. I wasn't perfect enough to be the best, I wasn't perfect enough to keep Myra, I wasn't perfect enough to be comfortable with who I was. I always just have to go and fuck everything up. And I know, Richie--I know, that one day, I'm gonna fuck up with you, too. Because... because I'm too old for you. Or this is all just a money thing to us. Or I'm not even a real--"

"Mr. Eddie. That's crazy," he said. "You don't gotta try to be perfect all the time. It's impossible. Nobody is. As much as I try to say I am," he paused to let out a chuckle, which made me smile, too. "I'm not. At what you do, I _do_ think you're the best. I mean... look at you, seriously. You're not even forty yet and you've got this big ass mansion-house-thingy and all the success you could ever want. I wouldn't sweat it too much. It just sucks seeing you be so hard on yourself about it, though."

"But what about us?" I asked, and I hated that my voice sounded so small. I hated that I was starting to sound like Myra. "What if you get tired of me? Or we don't work out? What can I do to make you stay?"

"I wouldn't even worry about that!" he said, and he smiled wider. "I have fun with you, Mr. Eddie. Right now. That's all that matters. We shouldn't worry about then, and we can't worry about later--but we can worry about right now. Y'know? All I know is that _right now,_ I've got a guy, we have fun together, and we look after each other. Even if we don't work out, even if something bad happens... I'll _always_ care about you. And I'll be there for you. You've made that kinda impression on me already. But let's worry about all the hard stuff later, okay?"

"Okay," I sniffled, and I gave him another smile back.

He took my face in both of his hands and kissed my forehead. "Listen, Romeo. Chin up, okay? You're so bright and handsome. And you _ain't_ that old. You don't walk with a cane--yet! Mmm... maybe in a few years, give or take. But not yet!"

I snickered, trying to push away from him. " _Fuck you!"_

He cackled, keeping me locked in place with the hug. "Aw! Don't be that way, Mr. Freckles. I looooooove you!"

I blushed, my own giggling coming to a halt. I knew he was just kidding, and that it was just an expression--and Richie had a knack for doing that a lot, using cutesy expressions like that. But for just a second, I wanted to believe that he was completely serious, so that I could tell him: _You say I make it hard for you not to love me. Y_ _ou make it hard for me not to love_ you _, Richard Tozier. I'm falling in love with you. Just give me another week. Give me another reason. But you could pretty much say that I'm all yours'._

But instead, I responded with: "You just don't run out of nicknames, do you," and let out a sigh of relief when I made him laugh.

* * *

"I can't do that! I'm nervous as hell!" Bill told me.

Looking at Bill, it was very easy to see the appeal for him: his bright blue eyes, his splattering of freckles and his foxy red hair. His glasses twinkled in the natural light, and his nose scrunched up when he smiled. We always joked if we weren't married by (or at least weren't in relationships by) forty, we would just marry each other--which was definitely not a bad trade-off. But Bill? He wasn't my type, and I wasn't his. That's why God invented best friends, after all.

"Yes, you can," I told him. "If I could ask Rich on a date, then I'm pretty sure it won't be hard for you to ask Stan. You have _way_ more confidence than I do. You have his number. Just go ahead and do it!"

"Well. Okay," he said, and he actually seemed pretty psyched out and pretty nervous. This was cute! There hadn't been somebody that could psych Bill out in awhile. He ran his hands through his hair and typed on his phone keyboard for about a minute, and then looked back up at me with a smile.

"Okay! How about this: 'Hey, Stanley! This is Bill, Eddie's friend from the gala the other day. I just couldn't help to notice your beautiful singing voice and how strikingly handsome you are. The most handsome guy in the room. I was wondering: would you like to go out for drinks? Maybe coffee and a bite to eat? It would be my pleasure.'" He gave me a sheepish smile. "Is that okay?"

I grinned and rolled my eyes theatrically. " _Great._ But--take out the 'Stanley', and just put 'Stan'. Other than that, you should be golden!"

Bill smirked. "Speaking of golden... whenever you got done hanging out with Richie, you had that 'double-glow'. Y'know. Like that after-sex, after-cry glow. So what was up with that?"

"I mean... we finally had sex," I smirked back, sipping some tea from my favorite mug. Bill had a mug of his own. "So there's that. On the after-cry glow... well, I cried."

 _"From the sex?"_ Bill asked, widening his eyes.

I laughed. "No! After. We kind of had a heart-to-heart. I was feeling a bit dysphoric, I guess. So I told him that... and he made me feel better. He made me feel _a lot_ better."

"He didn't know?" Bill asked on, genuinely curious. "Did he care too much?"

I shook my head."Mm-mm. He caught on early on. But he didn't seem to care at all. He still called me 'Mr. Eddie'. And then he called me handsome, and Romeo. Which actually helped a lot." I blushed and grinned, and my eyes downcast to the ground. Bill grinned back, leaning in a little more in his seat as if this was the most interesting thing he'd heard all day.

"And besides," I went on, looking back up, "Richie is super liberal anyway, from the conversations we've had--he's basically bordering on being a communist, so even if he didn't catch on before, I really didn't think he would mind. I didn't want to assume anything, though. But yeah, he didn't bring up any bad feelings at all... and the sex still seemed to knock his socks off." I blushed again, harder. "I mean, afterwards, he wanted to go again."

"That's 'cause all of these young bucks have all this energy," Bill said, his smirk seeming to be engraved on his face. "Don't let him wear you out, Eddie. He must not think-- _oh shit!"_

 

"What?" I asked, half-amused, half-startled.

"Stan texted me back!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening again. He ran his hands through his hair again--his typical Bill Panic Move. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit. What if he-e re-ejected me?"

"Hey, Turtle. Calm down, you're stuttering again... it's gonna be alright." I walked over to behind his chair so we could both look at his phone at the same time. "Let's look at his response and go from there! Okay?

"Okay," he said, and his smile came back on his face. He took a deep breath, dropping his speed of his words back down to his slow and steady gait. "Well... what do you know. He actually said yes. Where do I go from here, Eds?"

"Oh my god," I groaned. I took my own glasses off and rubbed my eyes, thinking if I rubbed them hard enough, then I could unhear what Bill just said to me. "Did you just call me 'Eds'?"

"Yeah!" He said, and began to laugh. "I got it from Richie."

 _"I know,"_ I said. And this time, the eye-roll was wholehearted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan: Rich why are there even MORE roses on our porch tell Mr. K to chill  
> Eddie: That's not me ^-^


	7. I'm Like a Comedian with the Way I'm Always Trying to Make You Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Me & You  
> In all seriousness, Richie and Stan decide to treat themselves and move camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year's eve! i ain't got no plans, not many friends, can't drink till next year ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ so i will wrap this story up tomorrow! ;-)
> 
> i hope the next year is prosperous for all of us! and may we ever grow and be the best that we can be ♡

Hanging out with Mr. Eddie yesterday made us both feel a lot better, I think. I had been worrying about a bunch of shit that now I realize I really shouldn't be getting caught up about: like bills, and work, and school, and if Yolanda and James would actually like me. But in since all of that stuff was under control now, why should I drag my ass on the carpet about it?

And I knew that Mr. Eddie was going through his own shit. It must suck being so rich and having a big ass house and not having anybody to share it with. But with all of my materialism aside... it was more than that. I learned really quickly that he didn't care as much about the money as he did other things. It must suck having to put your dreams on hold and not being able to grow into the person that you want to be. It must suck to constantly feel like, even in death, you're putting your old lady down.

It must suck _a lot._

But the thing about it is that he always told me that I made it suck a little less. And that made me feel really good. And important. Really, he shouldn't stroke my ego like that. And he _also_ shouldn't send me risque pictures when I'm at work or out with my friends (read: he should _totally_ continue to do that). They would be cute little pictures; one was him with no shirt on, and the only part of his face I could see was his mouth, his smile and him biting his bottom lip. The text that he sent me with it was:

 **Richie.....** **I miss you. Thank you for always taking care of me!!! I can't wait until the next time I can take care of you ♡ ♡ ♡**

Yeah! Stroking my ego. My _ego._ Heh heh heh.

So with all of the money and other nice things that my beloved Spaghetti had already done for me, I had saved up enough money to give Stan a little surprise. (Well, 'saving up' was an overstatement--Mr. Eddie and I have only been seeing each other for like, two months, and we already had enough to leave.) As you guys can tell, that surprise involved Stan and I scrounging up boxes and packing all of our shit up in the bed of my truck, and moving to a swankier apartment.

"So I can only assume this You and Mr. Kaspbrak thing is going good, huh," Stan said on the way to the new apartment. I grinned and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Yes, sir! And it works out great! He takes care of me, I take care of him."

Stan scoff-chuckled (a Uris Power Move), and crossed his arms over his chest like he suddenly got a case of the chills. "I'm sure you do. But don't elaborate. Oh, and Mr. Denbrough asked me out on a date."

I sucked in breath between the gap of my teeth and shook my hand out. "Damn dude, don't burn me with those flames! That was hot fire."

"What?" Stan asked, then caught on to what I was talking about. "Oh, what. Because I rhymed, didn't I?"

I started to snicker, and Stan cut his eyes at me with a head shake... but I could see the corner of his mouth curl in a bit. He couldn't resist me and my charm. We were both in a good mood, just happy to finally be able to move out of that shitty apartment. Nothing could bring either of our moods down--not even my stellar humor.

"Why do you call them by their last names, anyways?" I asked randomly, after my snicker-party was over.

Stan shrugged. "The same reason you call him 'Mr. Eddie'."

"But why not just opt for that instead of 'Mr. Kaspbrak' and 'Mr. Denbrough'?" I put on my Generic Gentleman voice, thinking that Kissdrivel and even Kinky Briefcase were a little too informal.

"I dunno, Rich," Stan answered, exasperated. "I didn't want to be disrespectful. Even if you add 'mister' in front of it... don't you think calling them by their first names is a _little_ disrespectful?"

"Huh," I said. "I didn't even think about that." And I saw Stan smile again, a little wider, thinking that he was getting through to me. And he was--at least I thought so initially. "You're right. I shouldn't call him _Mr. Eddie._ I should just call him _Eddie._ "

"Oh, my god," Stan said with a sigh, and put his head on the dashboard for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Whoa, dude! This place is wicked cool," Mike said as soon as he walked in.

"Thanks, man," I said, giving him a smirk and a wink. "Mr. Eds told me about it."

We had picked up Mike and Bev after dropping off all our things in the new place. Then, we all headed back so Stan and I could give them the tour. In since Bev gave lipstick-red kisses to Ben the Architect (or maybe just Ben, y'know), she had her own little swanky apartment a few neighborhoods over. It was wild, really... if Stan hit it off with Bill the Author (or maybe just Bill), we could afford to rent a house.

"Good choice on his part," Bev added, and her eyes glinted devilishly like her hair. She snickered. "And I thought he didn't like it when you called him 'Eds'?"

My smirk stayed planted on my face. "He _says_ he doesn't like it... but deep down inside, I can tell that he does. He's just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe... he _actually_ doesn't like it?" Stan said, and gasped really loud for dramatic effect. He even put his hands on his cheeks and made his mouth into a big O. I was so flattered! It was good to see that I was rubbing off on him. And it was paying off for him, because Bev and Mike both laughed, and... okay. Mike laughed a little too long and he scooted closer to him. Jesus _Christ._ I was just kidding about the Cupid's Bow or whatever I said--but now, I wasn't too sure if that was an exaggeration or not.

"Have you ever considered _that?"_ Stan added, and tilted his head to the side. You see, this is why Stan and I got along so well, and have been able to for years. He gets me. He can keep up with my humor, but that doesn't mean that he will give me even an inch. Love that guy.

"Yeah, I have... kinda," I answered, pretending to ponder the question. "But... it just seems so wrong that I threw the option out completely."

Mike continued to laugh, and this time, Bev was the one that burst into louder laughter. She was always on my side when it came to jokingly snappy conversations like this; for some reason, she actually thought I was mad funny. So I appreciated her, of course. I finally broke up, and so did Stan (he started chuckling himself), and we had a really good time for the rest of the evening.

 

"Does this look okay?" Stan asked, even doing a twirl-around for me. Another thing I appreciated about Stan: he took things really seriously. Maybe a little too seriously... but I'd rather be overdressed for something than under-dressed. At least with the former, people will see that you actually tried (instead of thinking that you made a mistake). He dressed pretty casually... but he put on a vest, which is probably what crossed him into the "over-dressed" territory. But I mean, at least he put his hair in a bun, which was pretty casual in itself.

"Ya look sharp, baby," I told him, touching my index fingers to my thumbs for the universal symbol of 'okay!' and he gave me one of his half-smiles. Along with his face flushing completely.

"Thanks, Rich. I'm just... ah. I'm just nervous. I haven't been on a date in a little while. What if I do something--"

Before he could get out the word "wrong", the doorbell rang neatly, promptly. It must be Bill the Author and Mr. Eddie. I went to answer the door--and sure enough, there they were. Mr. Eddie was back in his pastel roots, and Bill the Author decided to go for dark blues... the complete opposite of his hair and his face. He looked just as nervous (maybe even _more_ nervous) as Stan was.

"I'm here to retrieve my groom?" Mr. Bill said, smiling at me. He said it quietly enough to where he thought that maybe just me and Mr. Eddie would be able to hear it... but Stan had the hearing of an owl (one of his favorite species of birds). Stan downcasted his eyes, and Mr. Bill's smile froze on his face. I had never seen a person so red in my fucking life. I thought he was going to pass out.

"...And drop off my friend," he added quickly. He grabbed Stan's hand gently, and he whisked him away. Mr. Eddie and I couldn't help but to laugh at them all the way out the door.

"They're cute, aren't they?" he asked me. He walked over to the couch and sat down, then crossed his legs. I followed his suit and sat beside him. I would feel bad if Mr. Eddie were taller, because my leg span was taking up half of the couch, and we would've both been cramped.

 _"Too cute,"_ I answered, squinting my eyes to give off Suspicious Vibes. Mr. Eddie laughed at me, and I saw him blush a bit when I put my hand on his knee. I smiled. Crazy how he still got so worked up about that. "But hey! In since we're _all alone_ now..."

"Yes?" he asked, smiling and batting his eyelashes at me. I smirked, couldn't help it, and pulled him into my lap to where he was straddling me. He leaned down and gave me a kiss, innocently enough... but his eyes were dark and glinted again.

"I totally forgot what I was gonna say!"

He gave a low giggle. "Really? Did you forget, or you just don't wanna tell me now?"

I rubbed my hands up his sides, reveling in his little squirms. "I don't like your game, Mr. Cough Drop. I don't like it _at all_."

My caressing almost reeled him in, but then he started to laugh, and the sexual tension was broken. "Where the _fuck_ did that you get that one from?" he asked.

"You're always sick!" I said, starting to laugh myself. I threw my hands up. "I mean, if you don't like _that_ one, then there's a few more I could try."

" _Please_ don't--" he said, still giggling.

I smirked. Now, my Trap Card™ was activated! "Too late! Mr. Asthma Attack!"

 _"Fuck you!"_ he exclaimed, and he started laughing loudly again. I was on a roll.

My own snickering wouldn't stop. Now, instead of thinking of ones that pertained to him or at least sounded like his name, I started to think of silly ones. "Mr. Hackey Sack!"

"Stop!" he said, but it wasn't even half-hearted; he was still dying of laughter, and tears streamed down his face.

And--this one was my favorite: "Mr. Quack Quack!" Then I started making duck noises, and the stupidity of my own self was just too funny to pass up. The whole thing, really, was quite chuckalicious.

He shook his head, his laughter coming out in tiny shrieks. He held one hand up near his face as a non-verbal cue of _okay, you win, stop!_

"Okay, I'm done! I swear!" I said with a smile. "But one last one. What about, uh... Oh! I got it! Mr. Boyfriend?"

Mr. Eddie's laughing stopped almost completely. He looked up at me in confusion. "Mr... _who?_ "

"Mr. You! If you wanna be. Listen, I thought your first name was 'My'. Unless I'm mistaken?"

He blinked a couple of times. "Okay, wait. So, you're asking me to be your boyfriend. Like, no joke?"

I grinned. "No joke. None. Nada."

"Well. I thought you just wanted this to be a business thing..." he said, and he trailed off, and I my grin melted off my face. Did he not want this? I thought it was what he wanted... Was I stupid to get so wrapped up in him? I thought he was wrapped up in me, too... I mean, he acted like it. Was it _really_ just like that? He spoils me, and I fuck him? Was I stupid to think it could've been something else?

Fuck. _Was he going to leave me?_

"I mean... I mean, nah," I said, and _goddammit_ I hated it that I could hear my voice break. "The money is cool and all... don't get me wrong, I love it... but I like _you_ a little more, y'know... I mean, I'm sorry for moving too fast; I didn't mean to--"

"I was just making sure you weren't kidding," he said, and he gave me a smile. He tried to keep his voice cheery and even, but I could hear the crack in his voice, too. "Before I said yes. Because you _know_ you joke around too much sometimes. You big dummy."

I laughed, genuinely, no jokes here, friends and neighbors, no chucks even, just a laugh, because Jesus Christ I was happy as fuck that I just overreacted, that he felt the same way. My parents had always taught me--and _showed_ me--that just because somebody helps you or acts nice for appearances, that they don't owe a thing. They don't owe you a _damn_ thing. So with Mr. Eddie (or maybe just Eddie. Nah. Just Eddie)... his devotion, his reciprocation, his... _his love,_ was not guaranteed.

It was crazy. I wasn't one for meshing so well with someone after a couple of months. I wasn't one for falling for people fast and hard (that was more Stan's job!). So I didn't understand why I looked at Eddie and his pretty brown eyes and his smiling face and felt something so strong and sudden, so _real._

He wrapped his arms around me, still straddling, and I could smell his cologne and the flowery scent of his hair. We didn't say anything. We didn't need to. There was this feeling all around us, like electricity. Like the air was charged. Charged with some unspoken thing. Some unspoken feeling, some unspoken emotion. It was new, and it was exciting, and it was scary, because that meant I would have to be vulnerable to him. And that would be scary to him, because he would have to be vulnerable to me. We both weren't used to that, I knew. But the feeling wouldn't let us think about that. I felt it in the air.

I think I was falling in love with him. Well... scratch that. I was.

That unspoken emotion.

I think he felt it, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rich: yeah I don't like waxing poetic  
> Rich: *waxes poetic every single chapter*


	8. A Beginner's Guide to Winning Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many cool things are beginning to happen. New place, new car, new you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me to me: boi get your foster the people titles out of here,,,,,,

I was happy for Bill, because his and Stan's date went really well. And afterwards, Bill had come to drop Stan back off at home and to pick me up, in since we had rode in the same car. Even as he took me home and we said our goodbyes, Richie's words from earlier kept on swimming around in my head. _Boyfriend. I'm his boyfriend. He's my boyfriend._ I felt giddy and lightheaded, like I was some high schooler again or something. And I couldn't hold water--I told Bill as soon as I got in the car with him.

Spending time with Richie always made me feel so good and forget about my problems for a little while. We snuggled up in his bed and I watched him play video games (and we even played out my fantasy of making love in his room), and we watched a movie or two. Nothing too special or fancy this time, he told me--and I could respect that. But the next time we saw each other, which would be the end of this week... I was going to go all out. This money was burning a hole in my pocket. Besides, who ever heard of getting a new place and not getting a new car?

"You're going to buy him a _car?_ " Bill asked, and he laughed as if it were a big deal. I looked at Ben for backup, and he smiled at me and shrugged.

"Don't fret! That's not _too_ bad," Ben had told him in my place. "I bought Bev a car like half a year ago, remember?"

Bill snickered. "Yeah, I remember. You're just floating on air, aren't you guys? I look at you and _promise myself_ that I'm not going to get this enamored with Stanley."

"Says the guy who was talking, _just now, just today,_ about how you're gonna buy him an owl?" I asked. Then I added, for good measure: "As a _pet?_ "

Bill threw his hands up in defense. _"That's not as bad as a car!"_

"Isn't that owl like $2000?" Ben hammered on, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Yes! B-b-but--" he chuckled himself, shaking his head and slowing down his speech again. But the stutter was still there, ever-so-slightly. "You guys are just p-p-picking on me."

"Whatever, man," Ben said, waiting until his laugh passed so he could take a sip of his scotch. "You dipped ya feet in the sugar bowl, and now you're doing all of these crazy things, that guys like us do, in situations like this. And you don't even see it. What a shame."

"You can b-both go to hell," Bill retorted, and we all had a good laugh out of that.

* * *

"Hey, Eddie," Richie said, and he smiled. It seemed innocent enough... but there was something about the smile. It was more of a smirk. And also, I had been getting so used to him calling me 'Mr. Eddie' that it was weird and exciting and... _hot_ when he didn't. I shivered.

"H-hey, hun," I said.

We were riding in my car again, and I didn't tell him where we were going until we were halfway there. If I had told him that we were going to a car dealership (and not just kidding, because he thought I was the first time I brought it up), he would probably ask me to turn around. My cousin Andrew was the manager of a Toyota dealership, so we were just going to go to there. It also gave me a chance to say hi to my little cousin.

"You were being _serious?_ " he asked me, even as we pulled up into the parking lot. "Like, you're _actually_ buying me a car?"

I grinned. "Yes, silly. Or a truck. Or a motorcycle? Whatever you want! Pick whatever you like. And don't look at the price or the note, because all of that is gonna be taken care of."

Richie looked like he was going to say something as a rebuttal (not a serious one; a snarky one at best), but when he could think of none... he grinned from ear-to-ear and gave me a hug.

 

 _"Well, look who in the hell it is!"_ Andy exclaimed as he saw us walk into the building. I smiled, un-linking my arm from Richie's for just a second so I could give Andy a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. Richie tilted his head to one side, confused... and I could see the dark glint in his eyes of an emotion I'd never seen from him before. Was that _jealousy?_

 _Jesus, Eugene. Why do you think_ that's _hot, too?_

"Hi, Andy!" I said, trying to be cheery enough, but Richie's gaze on the back of me made me break out in goosebumps. "How have Auntie Cheryl and Uncle Josh been going?"

"Old lady's good," Andy told me with a wink. "Old man... not so much. He's been in and out of the hospital, ya know? Gallstones, or something. He talked to Sam the other day? That seemed to cheer him up."

 _Oh, gosh._ Samantha, my Uncle Drew's daughter. My older cousin. Talking to Andy made me realize how often I forget to contact my own family. "I'm surprised he was even able to do _that._ You know how Sam's a busy lady. How's Kyle?"

"Yeah, you know it," Andy agreed. "I haven't talked to Sam since Aunt Sonia's funeral." he frowned just a bit; it seemed like he was regretting bringing up Mother because of all the bad vibes. But then, he smiled brighter. "And you know Kylie. He's just lying to judges, like normal." Kyle was Andy's big brother, but also my little cousin. And 'lying to judges' translated to 'my brother's a lawyer'.

But then Andy looked behind me and saw Richie, and shot me a grin. "And how you been, Eddie? You finally gotta boyfriend, huh?" I looked back over to Richie as well, and that jealousy seemed to have melted off his face, because his eyes were light and playful again. He easily caught on to the fact that Andy and I were related, due to context clues, so I guess there was no reason for the jealousy anymore. He also seemed to bask in the fact that Andy knew that we were dating.

"Yep! I'm Richard," he said, and bowed down low to Andy. The latter laughed and patted me on the back.

"Well, welcome to the fam, Rich. Sorry for this lil' family reunion. S'just I don't get to see Eddie like that no more, you know? And there's so many Kaspbraks and Brokelys, ya can't keep up. Y'know! Big Italian family."

"S'cool, man! My mom is Puerto Rican. She's gotta real big family, too. And we're all super close! I can relate."

Andy laughed again, and clapped me on the shoulder, and that was the only thing I didn't like about my family was all of the touching. I blushed and mumbled that we were looking for a car for my boyfriend, and off we went. Richie ended up picking another truck--his old pick-up truck was a rusted light blue. So this time, he opted for candy red.

 

"I think I have something important to tell you, too," I told Richie once we drove back to my house.

We were sitting outside on my patio, close to the pool--it was just something we did, if the weather was nice. Swimming season was over, so I had put tarp over the pool, but the patio was still a nice little place to sit and get fresh air, and a little breeze.

Richie flicked the fringe of his bangs out of his eyes. "And what's that, Spaghetti?"

I glanced over at him. Why was I scared to tell him? What if he had the same reaction as Myra? Concerned for my health and my safety, but he didn't want me to do it? What would I do then?

But instead of thinking of all of these scary things, I just took a deep breath. "I think... I think I'm finally ready to get my surgeries. You know in since when I was married to Myra, she didn't want me to. And also, I just didn't have the time. But now I do! So... Do you think... how do you feel about it...? Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Aww, baby," he started, and he scooted closer to me. "Don't worry about how _I_ feel about it! It's about _you!_ This is something that you're doing for _yourself._ And you deserve it. You know I'm real happy for you. And I'll be happy with anything you do. So go, my love, with reckless abandon. Don't think about how other people will feel for a change. You take care of me just great... but don't forget to take care of yourself too, boo."

I smiled, my blush spreading across the bridge of my nose and both cheeks. He was being... so chill about it. So cool. He was happy for me, he said. Even if he were scared or nervous about it, he would put those feelings aside to make me happy. _He was supporting me._ How would I ever measure up to his level of support for anything? I feel like he had outdone me. I smiled even harder.

"You think I should just... do it?" I echoed.

"Yeah! I really don't see why not. You've been wanting to do this for years, and it'll make you happy. You deserve to be happy! And by God am I not gonna take that away from you. Just know I'm in your corner, boo. I'll hold your hand and pet your hair and wave pom-poms all over the place!" He put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me in closer to him. He kissed me on the forehead. "Just for you."

"You're not worried about me getting hurt? Or... or the sex being different?"

"'Course I'm hoping that you don't get hurt. But let's just hope for the best, okay? And baby... trust me on this when I say that I'll gladly accept _any and all sex_ that you're willing to have with me."

I giggled, and I leaned my head against his shoulder. He smiled and rubbed my shoulder, and I swore that I could fall asleep right then and there; I was surprised that I wasn't already, because it felt like a dream.

"Thank you so much, Richie," I said with a hazy smile. "Just... I'm so thankful for you. You're the best."

He gave me a wide grin back. "Aww, Spaghetti! You're the bestest."

 

 


	9. 1+1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can only look up from here. And it's never too late for some bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tears streaming down my face* i just remembered,,,,, that i love michael hanlon,,,,,

Things were going so well that I couldn't believe it. Normally, I had the shittiest luck. And I was wondering if I had done something wrong recently, in case karma took it all away... Stan and (Mr.) Bill had started seeing each other, which was actually pretty cute. And Bill spared no change when it came to Stan, is what I came to learn.

"He gave you _how much?_ " I asked.

"Only like, $5000. But--"

_"Stan. He gave you $5000? For the first fucking date?"_

He threw his arms up in defense. "Yeah? But listen, dude! He makes millions of dollars a year. Literally. It's not a big deal."

Well, Jesus _Christ._ We wouldn't have to worry about any type of financial issue again, at least not for an indeterminate amount of time. And also, I was hoping that we would earn that type of money soon too, from the careers that we wanted to have. Stan _loved_ accounting, _still_ does, so that's what he wanted to do... no matter how boring I personally thought it was. That's my best friend though, yo--I'm not gonna knock him.

Besides, Bill said that he would help Stan start up his own firm. And where's the con in that?

I snickered at him, making a few more jokes about Bill being broke by the time him and Stan decided they were gonna stop seeing each other (if they ever did), before he finally cracked a smile. Then he beep-beep'd me and changed the subject. "So when is your next performance with Yolanda and James?"

"On the 5th!" I said, taking the time to pause to try to catch an M&M in my mouth. I didn't; it landed on the carpet, and Stan shook his head at me. "And apparently, there was a DJ at the last gig, and he likes me. He wants to work with me. He's over channel 94.3... so ya boy is gonna be on the radio."

"Finally," Stan said, but he gave me a wink and a half-smile. One of the greatest achievements that I feel that I can get in this life is Stan's pride, his smile. It just makes you feel a hundred times better about whatever the hell you were doing, in since he's seemingly so hard to impress. I was annoyed, but only with myself--because at times like this, I looked and realized how happy I was, how fun it is to be alive. I have people who love and care about me. Like Stan. And Bev and Mike. And even Bill and Ben. And Eddie.

Oh, Eddie. I couldn't wait to tell him the good news!

Stan and I fucked around for another hour or so, watching movies and playing video games, until I decided to finally get up. "I guess I gotta blow this Popsicle stand," I started, then smirked. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. "Or Popsicle Stan. My prince awaits."

"Yeah, you go do that," Stan said with a half-hearted eye roll. "Just promise me you won't say that ever again."

"No can do. A promise is too final," I said, and laughed when he _actually_ rolled his eyes at me.

* * *

The only thing that I didn't like is how things always tried to turn out. My whole entire life was going to change on October the 5th. And Eddie's was going to change on the 6th. Crazy how things always turned out that way? He gave me a hug and a kiss and told me that he had to check in to the hospital on the night of the 5th, but he would still come and watch my stand-up with Yolanda and James. I hoped I didn't suck too bad that night... all I'd be doing is worrying about Eddie. 

"Don't let me get in the way of that, baby," he told me, and he rubbed my back. "You've been talking about this since I've met you. I'm sure you'll do fine. Don't let me blow your chance at this."

"It's not you blowing my chances," I said, shifting a bit in the seat. "It's you having two major surgeries and me being worried."

He frowned. "I can always cancel the--"

I shook my head. "No! Baby! Don't do that. _Please_ don't do that. That ain't what I meant!"

So we just held hands in the car (with Eddie having a vice-grip on my hand; maybe I made him even more nervous on accident) and hoped for the best. We could only hope for the best, for both occasions.

"So guess who's _also_ gonna be on the radio?" I said at a stoplight. Eddie glanced over in my direction, and I could see his eyes brightening and twinkling in the sun. He gave my hand a squeeze and smiled.

"Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. You make me more and more proud everyday. You're so amazing... I love you."

I snickered, trying super hard to hide my blush, but to no avail. So, he just said he loved me. But did he mean like "expression-love-you" or, like, "no really, _I love you_ " love you? It was hard to tell... and I didn't want to say it back, in the event that it was the former and just a figure of speech. So I said: "God, Spaghetti. You sound like a dad."

"Oh, but isn't that what you always try to make me out to be?" he snickered back, a smirk planting on his face. And seeing from his cheery, joking attitude, maybe the "I love you" was just fooling around. But maybe I didn't want it to be... well. I _definitely_ didn't want it to be. I wanted to actually hear him say it. But that would come later, at a pace where he was comfortable. Maybe I could tell him first, come December.

I smirked. "You're right, you're right. But hey! Seriously, thank you. Without you guys, I wouldn't even _have_ a gig."

He smiled, and then got back to the conversation at hand. "Ben and Bill and I could get you all the connections in the world, no biggie. But that doesn't automatically guarantee your success with these people. _You_ did that, Rich. You have a light inside you that burns so brightly that other people see it. And they want to be around you. You can woo and charm anybody in this world... we just showed you who."

"Dammit, you're so cute," I said, and put my head on his shoulder. "And sweet. You just make it seem like I did all the hard work."

He smiled again, taking one hand off the steering wheel so he could run it through my hair. "Because you _did._ "

 

September finished on uneventfully enough. Bill and Stan went on more dates (and Jesus Christ, he told me that _his_ allowance was $12,000), Eddie and I hang out some more, and Stan and I hang out with Mike and Bev. Eddie went shopping for a "go home outfit", as he called it, for when he got out of the hospital. Which was just a typical outfit for him: button-down shirt, bowtie, slacks, Oxfords, suspenders. White and black, and his accents were red. To with that, got another fur coat, almost exactly like the powder pink one he had, but this one was white fur and lined on the inside with red. I'm glad he was finally starting to embrace the _color of love._

I was actually a little more anxious for October to come than I was excited. Again... both of our lives would be changing, and we both had to make sure that we were ready for that. On the 4th, Stan and I headed over to James's house (where Yolanda was already there), and we ran our lines through to each other and to Stan, just to make sure that they were okay. Then, the 5th came, and... I did okay. I actually did okay. I made the entire audience laugh.

There were a couple of things that were up there that could make me feel really accomplished and happy: Stan's approval, Eddie's smile, and an audience's laughter. That was the best shit.

"You did great, man!" Mike said after I had went backstage, and he clapped me on the back. Stan broke into one of his rare, full-on smiles and pulled me into one of his rare, full-on hugs. Bev snickered and pulled me into a hug of her own.

"You're _actually_ kinda funny, Tozier," she teased. "Just a little."

I smirked. "Ah shaddup, ya skirt."

It was already 8:30 when I got done with my performance, and I told Yolanda and James that unfortunately, I would have to bounce. I had to drive my boyfriend to the hospital. Bill offered to drive Eddie there so we could stay at the show, but I wanted him to know that I was there if he needed me. And Bev, Stan, and Mike all said it was totally cool if he dipped. So we all piled into Ben and Bill's cars: Me, Stan, Bill and Eddie, and then Bev, Ben, and Mike. Eddie held my hand the entire way there.

"Okay, so _now_ I'm actually getting nervous," he told me, and then laughed. "I wasn't really too much before. But now, it's actually happening."

I put on my Rush Limbaugh voice. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine, sweetheart. You're a steel magnolia." I felt really good when he laughed. I'm glad I was able to make him feel at least a little better.

 

"Are you sure you guys are going to be okay here by yourselves?" Bev asked. "You guys don't wanna like, go home for the night?"

"Yeah, we'll bring you back in the morning," Ben added. Bill I shook my head and winked, and Bill smiled and waved his hand.

"Oh, no. It's fine! I don't want Eddie to wake up and start freaking out because nobody's here, y'know?" Bill said. "It's just, ah, what do you call it?" He laughed. "Best Friend Collateral."

"And I'm the Boyfriend Collateral," I added with a smirk. "Besides, I wanna hold my little Spaghetti's hand when he comes back to."

"Okay, Casanova," Ben and Mike said at the same time, then laughed and high-fived each other. They were both teasing fucks, and it (jokingly) drove me crazy that they were beginning to get along so well. Bill and Bev laughed at this exchange, and Stan just smiled and shook his head.

So then it was just me and Bill in the waiting room. Bill had asked me did I want to walk to the gift shop with him, so we did, and he bought Eddie a flavored water, a teddy bear, and some fake flowers. "Because he's allergic to actual ones", he told me with a smile... and I actually didn't know that. Well, I _thought_ he was, in since he always told me that he was okay if I didn't buy him any, but Bill confirmed it for me. I'm glad I didn't actually buy him any.

Then afterwards, we went back to the waiting room--me with chocolates, a plush blanket, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and Bill and his water, his teddy bear, and his flowers. "Whoever it is must be really loved," the lady sitting next to us said, and smiled. She was a sweet lil' old lady, so Bill beamed at her. I gave her a smile back.

"Yeah, he is," we answered at the same time.

But this was a good bonding opportunity for me and Bill. We hadn't been able to talk much since meeting each other, and I found out he was actually a pretty cool dude. He was _super_ nice, but he was assertive and didn't let people run all over him. He was goofy and his humor was A1--you could barely tell he was 38. And he made a great leader.

I noticed that his energy level started to wane a bit more into the night, and he had leaned his head up against the wall. "What's up, Big Bill?" I asked, and he glanced over at me with a frown.

"I-It's taking forever," he said. "I hope he's okay."

I sighed. "Yeah, me too. I know we haven't been dating for super long but... that's still _my baby,_ man."

Bill's wariness seemed to disappear for a second, and he flashed me another smile that was as bright as his hair. "I'm painfully aware. Kidding! But I feel you. I've been best friends with that kid since we were eleven. If anything happens to him, I'm gonna raise some hell."

I smirked. "You and me both."

He took one of my hands in his, and kept his great big smile. "Let's not worry about it too much, kiddo. Maybe we're getting worked up over nothing. If anything was going wrong, the doctor would come out and tell us. For now, let's just try to wind down and get some sleep. Kay?" I felt this weird warmness that I hadn't felt in a while. I felt comfortable, and reassured, and centered... like how Wentworth--whoops, _my dad,_ used to make me feel.

"Kay. Sleep sounds _pretty damn_ amazing."

So sleep we did. We both fell asleep sitting up in our chairs, me slightly slumped, still holding hands and linking arms, because we were all that the other had at that very moment. And I'm sure that we both had dreams about waking up and being able to see a hospital bed instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill: *points to Richie* !!!!! my son!!!!


	10. I Love You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a day late but it's ending now guys ;-)

Before I knew it, I woke up and it was over.

My hospital room was empty, white and empty, when I woke up. And I started having flashbacks back to a sad, scrawny, eleven-year-old kid in the same position. Wide dinner-plate eyes, scraggly long hair, freckles that this kid hated then, but now Richie calls a constellation. The kid that was always sick, always in the ER, always in the hospital, always a "frequent flyer", because of their mother. A sad, sick, lonely little girl in a hospital bed.

But I wasn't that little _girl_ anymore, now was I?

_I never was._

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable and very alone. I was still groggy whenever my day shift nurse came in, and doped up on painkillers (because I was in a lot of pain). So when she asked me was I okay, all I could mumble was _"Bill... Richie..."_ and she smiled at me.

"Are you in the mood for visitors?" She asked. "There's two gentlemen out in the waiting room that really want to see you. They've been waiting for you all night. Do you want me to tell them that it's okay to come in?"

I smiled at her. "Yes... please."

She smiled, and petted my hair (which I appreciated), and left the room for a few minutes. It felt like the longest few minutes of my life. But when she came back, I breathed a sigh of relief, because this time, she came back with Bill and Richie. They each had a handful of what looked like gifts, and Bill had his signature goofy smile on his face. Richie looked tense and apprehensive at first... but then he saw me and his eyes lit up.

I smiled. I felt so special.

"Look at our special little boy," Bill said, fake-crying for theatrics. Richie saw what he was doing, must've thought it was funny, and started wiping imaginary tears from his own face. I grinned and shook my head, and Bill put the flowers that he had for me on the windowsill. Richie had some fluffy-looking blanket; he took the packaging off and put it over top the hospital blanket that was covering me up.

"Hey, Spaghetti! How ya feel?" Richie added after him and Bill had gotten done snickering.

"I feel okay, I guess. The painkillers are starting to kick in, so I can deal." I looked down at the bandages wrapped around my chest and grinned. I pointed to them. "But look! Look how flat my chest is! I can't wait until we can take the bandages off."

"Aww, you're just so stinking cute," Bill said; he leaned down to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and ruffled my hair. "It's a long time coming, and you definitely deserve it. And you look so handsome! Ya gonna bulk up and start working out?"

"I wish," I said, and giggled. "I'd look weird muscular, don't you think?"

Richie bent down after Bill was done and gave me a hug and a peck on the lips. "I'll support whatever you wanna do, Freckles." He grinned mischievously. "But yeah. Yeah, you really would."

I took one of the pillows from behind my head and threw it at Richie's face. Even though that wasn't very hard, considering all of the bandages I was packed in. Let's not even factor in the discomfort. _"Whose side are you really on?"_

He snickered, gave a high pitched shriek from the pillow (again, for theatrics), and lifted me up just a bit so he could put it back behind my head. "You know I'm on your side, silly boy. Seriously, though. I'm really glad everything went okay."

"Me too!" Bill chimed in, and sat down and crossed his legs. "We were in there about to have heart attacks."

"I'm glad you didn't," I said. "Because then _I_ would've had a heart attack."

They stayed with me for the entire afternoon, and Ben and the others even came with gifts of their own. By the time I left the hospital on Friday, I would be loaded with goodies. I'm assuming the second time that check in, in two months, will be exactly the same. Which made me feel really nice. Even though I wasn't super well acquainted with Richie's friends, they were still super kind and supportive of me. It was cute that Richie surrounded himself with people that shared his same qualities.

* * *

I had tuckered out a bit after that, and when I woke up a few hours later, it was just me and Richie in the hospital room. He was staring at me intently and petting my hair, a look on his face that was so intense and concentrated that for a little while, I thought something was wrong. Right before I could even ask, he smiled at me brightly, and his intensity melted.

"What's wrong?" I asked anyway.

"Nothin'. I'm just looking. You're so beautiful."

I smiled, and nuzzled my head into his head like I was a puppy of some sort. He pulled me into him closer so he could kiss my forehead. "Where's everybody else?" I asked. "Did they have to leave?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. But they said they'll be back in the morning!"

I remembered that Bill had to go to work, so that was fine. And I wasn't going to penalize Ben and the other young adults for having lives of their own either. Richie told me that he had taken off work to be up here with me, and I felt like I was hindering him... but then, I remembered that he told me that he liked doing these things for me. And besides, it felt good to just have Richie and I in the room, by ourselves.

"Hey, baby?" he said, the intensity coming back onto his face for just a little while. "Can I ask you something? I wanted to wait until the others left. It's kinda embarrassing, yo."

"Aw, embarrassing?" I teased. "It can't be too bad. What is it?"

He chuckled. "Well, uh... when you said that you loved me yesterday... were you playing around, or did you mean that?"

I blushed. Now I realized why he had wanted privacy. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the rejection. "I mean... I mean, I meant it. I was just scared to say it first, because it's scary, and I didn't want to scare you off. But you saved me, Rich. You literally saved me. From myself. From my boring life. From everything. And I can't help but to be in love with you now."

He grinned, lightly and carefully scooting me over just a bit so he could lay next to me in the bed. He wasn't supposed to be doing that, and the nurse was going to chew him out whenever she came back in (and the doctor, too), but did it matter? It was _fun._ I realized my entire life, I didn't--and wasn't allowed to--have any fun. What did Richie tell me when we had first started seeing each other?  _We're all stardust just trying to have fun,_ and all of that. I should finally start to heed his advice.

He pulled me into a hug and we stared up at the ceiling. "I'm really fucking glad you said that. Because when you said it the first time, I really wanted to say it back. But I didn't wanna look stupid. But I gotta 'nother question real quick. So... hey, Eddie?"

I giggled. "Richie--"

He snickered back. "Humor me!"

"Okay, okay! Yes, my darling Richard, what is it?"

"Okay! So in since you said that I saved you. My pretty prince, high up in that castle with his gleaming crown and fancy silky clothes, all bored and waiting for a knight to sweep him away. So what happens when this knight climbs up and rescues him?"

This was it. Richie had my entire heart. He had helped me in so many ways, that I didn't even know where to start on how to repay him. He really did stick to the mentality that I had from the start: he takes care of me, I take care of him. He had taken care of me in a way that was so indescribable, so authentically real and pure that it made me want to burst at the seams. I could say solidly, from the bottom of my heart and my soul and wherever else that good feelings go, that I loved him.

_I love him._

I said: "He rescues him right back."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u guys know how it is.... i gotta put something sappy at the end to show my undying affection for all of you lovely people. thank you for all of your kind words and sweet comments. i didn't think that this was going to be so well received; it was just a silly idea that me and my best friend came up with one night. this is the best, kindest, most supportive fandom that i've ever been in. and i'll keep giving all my love to all of you guys. as silly as this is, this book is so important to me. i'm so glad to finally have people to share it with. thank you guys, so much. really.  
> \--toby <3


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